Tl 



LETTERS 



FROM 



LONDON 



WRITTEN 



DURING THE YEARS 



1802 er 1803. 



ay WILLIAM AUSTIN. 
1 » 



His ego gratiorn diiilu all.i esse scio : sed me vera pr<i grath loqui, etsi 
meum iiigenium non pioiieret, necessitas coget. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED FOR W. PELHAM. 



1804. 






S. ETHERIDGE AND C. STEBBIl^S, PRINTERS. 



GIFT 

ESTATE OF 

WILLIAM C. RiV£S 

APHIL, 184« 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

THESE Letters were written during 
a residence in London, and addressed to a 
friend in Massachusetts. The writer has 
endeavoured to blend amusement with in- 
formation, and has attempted to sketch 
both natinnnl, nriH individual charader ; 
with occasional outlines of the state of soci- 
ety in that interesting country. The fre-r 
quent allusion to the United States, by 
way of comparison, while it adds variety, 
he trusts will take nothing from the im- 
partiality of the work. The public will 
judge. 



DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS. TO WIT- 



B. 



► E it remembered. That on the thirtieth day of July, in the eighteen hundred 
and fourth year of our Lord, and in the twenty ninth year of the Independence of 
the United States of America, WILLIAM PELHAM of the said distridt, hath de- 
posited in this Oflice, the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as Proprie- 
tor, ia the words following, to wit : " LETTERS FROM LONDON : written 
durijiK the years 1802 (^ 1803. By WILLIAM AUSTIN." 

In conformity to the Aft nfrJ,.. r«ueress of the United States, intitled, " An 
Aft for the encouragement ol Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, 
and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of sucli i^opies, aurmg tne times therein 
mentioned :" and also to an Ail intitled, " An Aft supplementary to an Aft, inti- 
tled. An Ail for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, 
Chaits, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies, during the 
times therein mentioned; and extending the benefits thereof to the Arts of Design- 
ing, Engraving and Etcliing Historical, and other Prints. 

N. GOODALE, Clerk of the District 



of Massachusetts. 
Atiesh NrGOODALJE, CUrk. 



A true Copy of Record. \ 

-- " k.S 



LETTER L 



LOKDOK, JUJTE 19/^, J 804. 

DEAR SIR, 

1 HAVE just arrived in the land of our ances- 
tors, a land not much less strange to me, than were 
the shores of New England to Standish, Carver, 
Winslow, and the other adventurers. They were 
awfully impressed with the grandeur of nature, be- 
fore she yielded to cultivation : I am appreiiensive 
I shall not be less affeftcd with the excesses to 
which pride, vanity, and ambition carry those, who, 
endeavouring to rise above, sink far below the 
standard of nature. 

A descendant of those ancestors, arriving here, 
might naturally ask, '* What invincible prejudice, 
what inveterate bigotry, or what preeminent virtue, 
induced our forefathers to leaAC this country for a 
desert ■ " Thank God, their posterity know how to 
answer the question ! Three thousand miles and a 
desert they justly thought a full equivalent for what 
they left behind — notwithstanding, the maxims of 
Europe followed them, but which, distance, in some 
degree, served to cleanse of their leprosy. 



[ 2 ] 

You may expe61:, agreeably to promise, from time 
to time, a few notices of those things which I may 
think worthy of presenting. Letters are the recrea- 
tion of literature, and usually written in the night- 
gown and slippers : we give our friends our looser 
thoughts, reserving our abilities for more important 
occasions. But knowing your taste, feelings, and 
views, I shall endeavour, as far as I am able, to as- 
sume a style rather more elevated than is frequent 
in this mode of writing,- reserving the liberty of dis- 
porting at intervals on the surface of things. 

Men, manners, morals, politics and literature, 
will always afford a fertile field of observation ; but 
then it demands the hardihood of personal indiffer- 
ence to speak present truth, though afterwards, the 
same becomes legitimate history : at the same time, 
it requires the pen of Tacitus to make the proper 
discrimination between the people of two countries, 
or even between people of the same ; especially in 
Europe^ ivbere in the same country there are many 
different species of men. It would richly compen- 
sate for a voyage across the Atlantic to observe this 
singular circumstance. Indeed, I know not who 
can travel with more advantage to himself, or to his 
country, than a citizen of the United States, born 
since the revolution : for, the moment he arrives in 
Europe, the love of his own country becomes his 



[ 3 ] 

predominant passion : while his mind, at every step 
he takes, is awakened to reason, compare, pity, ap- 
prove, or condemn. 

But that which will more particularly engage his 
attention, is the comparative operation of the English 
and American constitutions on general happiness^ 
the only true criterion of the excellency of a govern- 
ment. 

The few observations which I shall drop on the 
English character will be rather an incidental, than 
a definitive drawing. I shall not remain here long 
enough to catch those nice, and frequently, complex 
traits which mark national chara61:er ; though I sus- 
pect, a sign painter might hit off John Bull, as well 
as an artist.* But I do not think it honest or gen- 
tlemanly, to draw the character of any people, while 
riding through their country on horseback, or to 
describe a city, after lodging in it one night. You 
would not imagine that a certain traveller had pass- 
ed through Boston, on reading that ridiculous anec- 
dote of the house with wooden rollers. You recol- 
le6t, he says the people of Boston live in mcuing 
houses : so that if they do not like their situation, 
or neighbourhood, they move to another part of the 
town. What a strange idea will Europeans have 

* I found myself not a little mistaken in the sequel 



[ 4 J 

of Boston, after reading such a fabrication ! Sucli a 
traveller is really unpardonable, for of all the senses, 
the sight is least liable to mislead. But travellers 
take great liberties, they lie boldly, and speak the 
truth by chance :* not so much perhaps, from a dis- 
position to wanton over nature, as from an opinion 
that mankind are more readily captivated vviih ro- 
mance. One of the earliest, and most famous saints 
does not hesitate to assert that he passed through 
one country, the people of which were destitute of 
heads, and through another, the people of which had 
but one eye. The story of the Amazons had its or- 
igin, possibly, from some traveller desirous of at- 
tracting attention at home : or perhaps from certain 
smugglers nvbo appeared at the sea side dressed in 
ivomen's clothes / 

The story of American bundling^ which is so fre- 
quently told in Europe, doubtless originated in hos- 
pitality ; though the stranger ventured, when he 
arrived in Europe, to chara<SVerise the whole people. 
Nothing is more likely, than that the author of the 
bimdling anecdote was benighted, and some kind cot- 
tage received him, which having no spare bed, he 
was obliged to sleep with the farmer's daughters. 

*' A mentir h&rdiment, et a dire la verite par hazard— Bonaven- 
ture D'Argonne, under the name of Vigneul Marville. 



[ 5 ] 

Another traveller, who has done us the honour of 
publishing a volume, goes nearly the length of assert- 
ing, that the citizens of the United States look back 
with regret on their separation from Great Britain, 

The same traveller visited Philadelphia, but not 
being noticed, because not known, he left the city 
in disgust, and charged the citizens with a want of 
hospitality. As well might one who had just drop- 
ped from the moon walk the streets of London, and 
then return with a similar report. Should Mr. 
Weld visit Philadelphia again, he is so well known 
now, I am confident he would be well received. 

Indeed, so little is known in Europe of the peo- 
ple of the United States, that it would be necessary, 
if you would describe them, to affirm, with no little 
assurance, that they are white as other people, that 
they live in houses, that they boil and roast their 
meat, and that they speak the English language, at 
least as well as they do in Devonshire. 

Lest I should be premature in my sketches, I shall 
adopt a rule which every stranger ought to adopt, 
until repeated observation confirm first impres- 
sions : that is, to open his eyes and ears, but seal 
his mouth. 

Adieu. 



LETTER II. 

1 NEVER knew, until the present, what a 
weight impresses on one who presumes to issue his 
own opinions on another country. I seem to sup- 
port the responsibility of the nation ; and tremble 
while judging those in secret, whose grand prerog- 
ative it is, to be judged in open court. That is a 
dignified office, which assumes over a whole nation, 
and ought not to be filled except by philosophers ; 
yet most men have finished their travels before 
they set out. 

The English, like Themistoclcs, take to them- 
selves the first place, because most foreigners allow 
them the second ; and they imagine themselves 
treated with ingratitude, unless every stranger 
throws in his mite of panegyric. They are hardly 
satisfied, if you invert the defiance of the poet, and 
praise where you can, and censure where you must. 

It has been their good fortune to be accused only 
of those traits of character of which they boast : 
charge the English with haughtiness, and they will 
tell you the Romans in their best days were the 



[ 7 ] 

haughtiest people on earth. Accuse them of hard- 
ness and oppression ; they will tell you, these were 
ever the misfortune of conquerors. Tax them 
with an overbearing demeanour, and they will se- 
riously tell you, this is a constitutional foible, owing 
to the consciousness of personal independence. 
Call them proud, and they will tell you it is the 
part of slaves to be humble : freemen are always 
proud. 

It is our misfortune to have been visited by those, 
who, far from being philosophers,^ estimated the 
United States agreeably to the views of Europeans : 
hence they have thought us two centuries behind 
the polish of Europe ; at the same time, a William 
Penn or a Rousseau would pronounce us more than 
four centuries nearer the great obje6l of the social 
compadl. It is not long, since a Chinese great man, 
if you will allow the Chinese to have had a great 
man, since the days of Confucius, arrived at Bos- 
ton with a considerable suite. Being asked his 
opinion of Boston, he very naturally replied, " It 
was the vilest place he had ever seen, and utterly 
destitute of magnificence." At the same time, ad- 



* Even Brissot, I suspedt, had fixed the characHier of the citizens of 
the U. S. before he left France. Charmed with the form of our gov- 
ernment, he was easily led to speak too highly of the citizens. 



[ 8 ] 

verting to the style of the citizens, *' Why." said 
he, " My father has three hundred servants." 

This man probably went home, and thanked God, 
he was not born a citizen of the United States ; 
and was ten times more confirmed in his prejudices, 
than when he left China. For travelling is as likely 
to fix native, as to destroy foreign prejudices. When 
such a man as Montesquieu, after having written the 
Spirh of Laws ^ and appeared to sympathise so sin- 
cerely with freemen, declares, " As Plato thanked 
heaven that he was born in the same age with Soc- 
rates ; so he thanked God that he was born a sub- 
ject under that government in which he had lived," 
he surely discovers a childish weakness. It may be 
pardoned in the Chinese, who has nothing but tlie 
soil, and those connexions which all people liave, to 
attach him to his country : but Montesquieu goes 
near to prove that a man may think and write like 
a freeman, and yet content himself in a state of 
slavery. For my part, my love for my country is 
founded chiefly on its constitution of government. 
I^ec in superfine tlgnisque caritas nobis patria pcti- 
det.* I should prefer the salubrious breezes and 
grateful soil of Spain to the inexorable north winds 
and iron bound soil of New England, were all 

• LiVT. 



[ 9 ] 

other things equal, ^omecunque Libertas rr^/- 
het^ deferor hospes. 

I foresee, I shall have to encounter many difficul- 
ties before I can catch John Bull : however, I will 
send you all the materials of his person that I can 
colle6l, and you must put them together as well as 
you can : if you sometimes make a small mistake, 
it is no great matter, John does not always know 
himself. 

To understand the English, one should be a pic 
beian in the morning, a gentleman in the afternoon, 
and a nobleman at night. Otherwise, the various 
grades of society are so fortified in peculiar habit, in 
this country, that you are in danger of mistaking 
bonest John for a different animal. 

A citizen of the United States arrives here under 
no favourable circumstances of birth, or conse- 
quence : therefore, to gain all the advantages of trav- 
el, he must either break down, or leap over, many 
of those barriers of society, which, with many, are 
esteemed sacred. 

Adieu. 



LETTER III. 



LONDON, JVW gfk. 

iVly attention was arrested, soon after my ar- 
rival, by a most humourous obje6t, a chariot and 
eight; but to do justice to the liorses, four of the 
appendages to the chariot were not of their species : 
they were four stout fellows, such as Hannibal 
would have chosen for his companions through the 
Alps. Three of these gentlemen had their station 
behind, and so dignifiedly did they carry themselves, 
with so much lace were they puffed off, and so el- 
egantly trimmed were their cocked hats, one might 
easily in the hurry of novelty have mistaken them 
for men of high rank, who were disposed to amuse 
the populace ; especially as the English are famous 
for whim, I was soon undeceived, for I observed 
on many of the gayest carriages four supporters, or 
holders, for the servants. 

An Englishman, accustomed to see such things 
daily, may probably have but one refle<S\ion on such 
an exhibition — " 77ie owner of that chariot must be 
licry rich ;^'' 2Ci\(S. possibly ^ this is the only refle6lion 
he ought to make. What purpose can it serve to 



[ 11 ] 

reason, when our best conclusions tend only to 
discover a situation which we cannot remedy ? 
Slaves ought to have but one sense, that of hearing, 
and but one idea, that of obedience. 

It is the part of a man of judgment, Rousseau 
somewhere observes, M'hen surprised by novelty, to 
ask its use. This is natural, and is exemplified by 
the aboriginals of our own country. They Avonder. 
ed at the stupidity of the man who carried xibout with 
him a chaise, which would not stir a step without a 
horse. But the first man on horseback, whom they 
saw, they believed to be one animal, and pronounc- 
ed it an excellent contrivance : for, strengdi, swift- 
ness, hunting and swimming, savage attributes and 
faculties of prime consequence, were answered in an 
eminent degree. But had they seen these three stout 
fellows behind the chariot, they would have per- 
ceived little congruity between them and the car- 
riage. 

I am strongly impressed that eithc r these useless 
beings suppose a great degree of misery , or a great de- 
gree of servitude in the nation. If their situation be 
eligible, it supposes such a degree of misery that they 
are obliged to fill the humblest offices for bread : if 
they seek these situations, and fill them in prefer- 
ence to others, it supposes the loss of all sense of 
human dignity. These are not the only evils ; these 



[ 12 ] 

drones are a tax on the industrious poor, and cat that 
bread for which others are suffering, and raise the 
price of that which they do not consume. Howev- 
er, all this is necessary in a monarchy ; the grandeur 
of the nobles is a part of the constitution, and must 
be supported :* in other words, poverty is a rteces- 
sary part of monarchy. If this evil cannot be reme- 
died, kind fortune is daily counteraiSling it, by hum- 
bling the great, and exalting the humble : otherwise 
Europe would soon become a sad spe6lacle of ty- 
rants and slaves. So true is it, as Beccaria ob- 
serves ; "In every human society there is an effort 
continually tending to confer on one part the height 
of power and happiness, and to reduce the other to 
the extreme of weakness and misery." 

There are two powerful reasons, why the United 
States will not for these hundreds of years afford 
such a sight as those chariot-appendages. The proud 
principles of the constitution will teach the humblest 
to fly the distin6lions of master and servant. The 
other is a more practical cause, and is operating dai- 
ly. I mean the extensive territory of the United 
States. If a man be born poor, he is not born to 
poverty ; or if born to labour, he is not born to ser- 
vitude. He has only to emigrate an hundred or two 
miles, and in the course of a few years, he proudly 

• vide Montesquieu's Spirh of Laws. Book 5. Chap. 9. 



[ 13 3 

looks around him and says, *' This farm is my own, 
and my children will inherit it after me." 

However, I do not wish you to believe the English 
populace are in general so little respedlable as those 
four easy fellows. One could not stand two hours 
in the street without attaining to one of the first prin- 
ciples of the English constitution. The chimney 
sweeper knows very well his standing in society, and 
without seeming to feel for those who think cleanli- 
ness one of the conveniences of life, he wraps himself 
up in his sooty consequence, and all who would pass 
by him must either hazard the evil of conta6l, or walk 
in the mud, until they are out of the reach of his in- 
fluence. The porter too, though his burden should 
be an impediment to every one, keeps the footway ; 
and no one presumes to request him to walk in one 
part of the street, rather than in another. I am not 
certain if I am correal, in attributing this to the dem- 
ocratic branch of the constitution. I am more in- 
clined to attribute it to the common law.* The in- 
fluence of the democratic branch of the constitution 
is too distant from the people to affe6l them very 
strongly : but that part of the common law which 
places the person of the peer and plebeian on equal- 
ity, being known to every one, comes home to 



• The Common Law is n p:>rt, and in my opiiiicn. tlic best part of the Eng- 
lish Corittitution. 



[ 14 3 

their feelings, and operates most visibly on the low- 
est. If all people are presumed to know enough of 
the laws of their country to answer for their infrac- 
tion, it would be singular, if they should be ignorant 
o those laws whence they derive all their conse- 
quence. 

Preserve the entirety of common law, and I be- 
lieve the people would scarcely miss the constitu- 
tion : but every good has its attendant evil. The 
common law is in continual danger of that terrier of 
parliament, statute law : so that the English may 
one day find themselves buried under a mass of 
statutes. 

Adieu. 



LETTER IV. 

LOKDOK, AUGUST loth. 

vJNE can know nothing of this people with- 
out mixing with them, they seem most of them to 
have two charadlers ; one repellant, especially to 
strangers, the other, quite accommodating and dis- 
posed to confidence, if you are willing to shew them 
a little deference. Nothing is lost by this, for they 
generously disclaim that superiority which is 
granted. 

I have also discovered a remarkable desire in those 
who affedl to rank among the better sort, to pass 
themselves offin the presence of strangers for gentle- 
men of fortune and consequence. Last Sunday 
morning I visited Kensington Garden, so early, that 
but one person was there before me. We passed 
and repassed each other many times ; but he dis- 
covered no disposition to speak, or to be spoken to : 
at length I ventured to accost him ; and to whom 
do you think I had the honour to address myself ? 
It appeared in the sequel that he was a member of 
parliament, possessed of an immense landed proper- 
ty in Kent, and that he had frequently been offered a 



[ 16 ] 

pension by Mr. Pitt, if he would support the minis- 
try, which had been as frequently refused from a 
motive of patriotism. He said he had foreseen, and 
advised Mr. Pitt of the termination of the war. I 
observed he must also have known Mr. Burke. 
" Poor fellow,'* said he, "Burke lost his senses a 
long time before he died : he quarrelled with mc at 
last, after an intimacy of thirty years." This man 
might possibly have been a member of parliament, 
notwithstanding the attrition of time had effe6led one 
considerable breach in his hat and two others in his 
coat. 

The English are said to hold all other people in 
contempt — the usual fault of islanders. But the 
English indulge a sentiment of disdain arising from 
comparison, rather than from any other cause. 

I am led to the above remark, from an occurrence 
which lately happened to myself. In travelling to 
London in a stage coach, I had become so intimate 
with one of the passengers, that just before the jour- 
ney was finished, he politely gave me his address. 
I told him, I could not in return give him mine, for 
being a stranger in the country, I knew not where I 
should take lodgings. I thought the man was sud- 
denly taken ill, so altered was his countenance in a 
moment. *' Are you not an Englishman ?" he ask- 
ed, with a tone which partly betrayed mortification 



[ 17 ] 

that he should have made such a mistake, and partly 
regret that he should have done me so much honour 
as to have taken me for an Englishman. " No, I 
am a citizen of the United States." He seemed to 
say, " so much the worse," wrapped himself up in a 
reverie, and was silent the remainder of the passage. 
This repelling trait of character, for which the 
English are noted, does not arise, in my opinion, en- 
tirely from their dispositions. In a country like this, 
a commercial country, where the interest of each in- 
dividual interferes in some form or other, with his 
neighbour's, where, the people mutually thrive at 
each other's expense, and where, even the pious, if 
they put up a prayer in the morning for a blessing on 
the day, the substance of it must be the overreaching 
of their fellows. Among such, there is no room for 
cordiality, and when attentions are proffered, their 
motive ought to be suspected. All will be suspicious 
of those with whom they are unacquainted ; especial- 
ly in such a city as this, to which rogues of all descrip- 
tions resort, either to hide their infamy, or sell it for a 
higher price. Hence the first maxim should be to 
know nobody by whom they are not likely to profit. 
An apostle among such people would command no 
more attention than a ballad singer, and would afford 
speculation to no one but a Jew clothesman. 

D 



[ 18 3 

How far these observations apply to our own coun- 
try, I leave you to judge. I believe commerce pre- 
serves the same character in all countries and in all 
ages. The merchant of Alexandria who arrived in 
a time of famine at Rhodes with a cargo of corn — 
the bankers of Syracuse who sold Cannius the Roman 
knight a farm, with a fish pond in it — the merchants 
of Amsterdam who cut down the cinnamon trees in 
the East — ^the Hamburghers who betrayed Napper 
Tandy — the merchants of Liverpool who pray God, 
not to change the colour of the negroes, and certain 
merchants of Boston who dream of wars in Europe 
as the greatest blessing which Providence can send, 
are all allied to the same family. How applicable to 
to the present is the following remark, made nearly 
nineteen centuries since, ^od si qui proscribunt 
Fillam bonam^ beneque edificatam^ non existimantur 
fefellisse etiam si ilia nee bona est, nee xdificata ra- 
tione. Cicero de Officiis. 

Thank God, the United States are rather an agri- 
cultural , than a commercial, country ; otherwise, in 
spite of the constitution, our republic would soon be 
lost in an odious aristocracy, and what is still worse, a 
rom//zd'm^/ aristrocracy , which experience proves to 
be the most inexorable, relentless, and coldblooded 
of all tyrannies : whose maxims are founded in cau- 
tious speculation, and a6led on in all the varieties of 



[ 19 ] 

monopoly : maxims which, fortified by law, fortify 

the powerful at the expense of the weak. Fortunate 

for us, the citizens, lords of their farms, will have 

interests different from the merchants, and \\'ill be 

forever a check on the spirit of commerce. Were it 

not for this last circumstance, there \\ould not be 

virtue sufficient in the country to support our form 

ofgovernment, but for a very short period. I know 

not if these sentiments meet yours, but from what I 

have already observed here, I am confirmed in 

them : it is neither the king, nor the nobles, nor the 

commons, who govern England ; but stockjobbers, 

commercial companies and monopolizers. Parlia- 

mentis only a sort of attorney to draw up their rules 

and regulations, and ratify them according to law. 

Adieu. 



LETTER V. 



LONDON, AUGUST 20th. 

X HE ele6lion of members of parliament, for 
Westminster, recurred in July. Every thing rel- 
ative to this popular prerogative will interest a citi- 
zen of the United States. He cannot observe the 
Hustings, without a warm reverence for the great 
original of his own freedom. The theory of elec- 
tion is a political sublimity, which a democrat cannot 
contemplate without rapture : it pra6lically brings 
society back to first principles, checks the tendency 
of government to usurpation, arrests the bolt of 
power in the hands of the wicked ; and though fre- 
quently perverted, in pra6lice, and made tosan6lion 
its own destruction, yet ele6\ion keeps alive the 
principle, and asserts the virtue, at least, of a part 
of the people. 

The following notices I made in Covent Garden, 
the scene of the eledlion. 

The candidates were Mr. Fox, admiral Lord 
Gardner, and Mr. Graham, an au6\ioneer. All was 
quiet until the candidates appeared. First came Mr. 
Fox : on showing himself on the front of the stage, 



[ 20 ] 

elevated a little above the heads of the spe6lators, a 
violent uproar of applause commenced with, " Good 
morning Charley," which scarcely ceased, when 
Lord Gardner and Mr. Graham appeared. The pop- 
ular suffrage seemed to be divided between tliese 
two : Fox was not opposed ; so a scattering hissing 
and clapping, at short intervals, commenced wiien 
either Gardner or Graham appeared on the front 
of the stage. 

Whether or not the people, from some cause, are 
weary of the popular branch of their government ; or 
whether they consider an ele61ion, a mere mockery, 
or an affair which concerns only the candidates, 
or whether Mr. Graham was not a man of sufficient 
weight to contest * the election seriously, I know- 
not ; but certain it is, the ele6lion appeared to me a 
a sort of Bartholomew Fair, to which the people 
came, some for amusement, some to pick pockets, 
and some merely to increase the crowd :. while the 
candidates afforded the entertainment, which was 
not without humour. You know the English fan- 
cy tliemselves free, once in seven years — this elec- 
tion brought to my mind the Roman Saturnalia. 
During the Hustings, likewise, every thing is taken 
in good part by the candidates, who affe61 the ut- 

• The randidntcs have usurped the word " contest :" one would imagine th:it the 
people should content an cleftion, not the candidates. 



[ 22 ] 

most popularity, not disdaining, sometimes, to be 
carried home on the shoulders of the people. 

The candidates usually address the crowd at the 
close of each day's poll, and return them their most 
sincere thanks for their support, and sometimes lay 
their hands on their hearts, and urge their friends to 
come forward, the next day, with redoubled ardour. 
Those who are not in the habit of public speaking, 
frequently, at least it was thus in the present instance, 
authorise some friend to represent themselves to their 
future constituents. 

The daily state of the poll is painted in a conspic- 
uous place, to satisfy the curious : this I imagine is 
absolutely necessary; for John Bull would think 
himself imposed on, if not permitted every day to 
see how the eledlion went. 

Sometimes, the electors are disposed to shake 
hands with their representatives ; one of whom with 
seeming cordiality said, "Ah, Charley, it is seven 
years since I had the pleasure of shaking hands with 
you — how have you done all that time." " Ah," 
groaned another man among the crowd, " It is only 
once, in seven years, that the two parties do shake 
hands." 

Lord Gardner was not so civilly received ; but he 
bore the sarcasms of the populace with much good 
humour, and seemed by his demeanour to be con- 



[ 23 ] 

tident of his ele^ion — in spite of the people. A 
sailor stripped off his jacket and shirt, before the 
Hustings, and asked, " If he remembered when he 
gave him that flogging ?" At the same time another 
threw a halter at him, telling him to recolle6l Gov- 
ernor Wall. The Admiral seemed for a moment 
mortified at this : he said nothing ; but looked 
a sort of appeal to the spe6lators " If he merited the 
charge?" All were softened in his behalf, and by 
their murmur of applause acquitted him instantly. 
This ready disposition to espouse the cause of die 
injured, is one of the finest traits of the plebeian 
chara^ler of the English. 

At the close of the poll, Mr. Fox and Lord Gard- 
ner were declared elected. I could not readily ac- 
count for this : Fox was not opposed, and yet Gra- 
ham, who was in Fox's interest, lost his election 
in favour of Gardner, Mathematically speaking, 
one might say, such a conclusion was impossible. 

The eledlion continued eight or ten days. I be- 
lieve it in the power of either candidate to extend 
the time, at pleasure. If so, there is an opening to 
the greatest excesses : for every ele6lion is not con- 
dueled with such good humour as was this.* 
Broken limbs, and even homicide, are not unusual 



*At the three preceding eledtions murder was committed! This circum= 
stance alone is nearly sufficient to prove there is no liberty in England. 



[ 24 ] 

at some ele6lions. How will you account for it ? 
The citizens of the United States ought to have the 
prerogative of suffrage, much more at heart, than 
the subje6ls of England, and yet at no contested 
ele(5lion was there ever a citizen killed : nor did I 
ever hear of a broken limb — The cause must be 
sought in the candidates and not in the people. 

You will expert a description of Mr. Fox, his ap- 
pearance and demeanour. You wish to know how 
he was dressed, how he stood, and how he looked. 
In his youth he is reported to have been as great a 
fop as was Aristotle : I will only say, at present, his 
appearance was altogether against him. He looked 
as if he had been long in the sea service, and after 
many a storm, had retired on half pay. His greasy 
buff waistcoat, threadbare blue coat, and weather- 
beaten hat, gave him, in connexion with his great 
corpulency and dark complexion with short dark 
hair hastening to gray, very much the appearance 
of a laid up sea captain. He has the countenance of 
an ancient Englishman^ but long watching has 
changed the temperature of health to a dun col- 
our. He would be thought, at present, by oaie who 
did not know him, to be a noble dispositioned, rather 
than a great, man. When I hear him in the House 
of Commons, I will give you my opinion of this 
great favourite of our citizens : though why he 



[ 25 ] 

should be a favourite, I know not ; he is not more 
a democrat, than Mr. Pitt : nor have his exertions 
benefited his country : they have only exasperated 
inveteracy, and strengthened opposition, by calling 
forth a ministerial energy, which not only touched 
hard on the true principles of the constitution, but 
too plainly discovered there was not sufficient affec- 
tion in the people to support a government for which, 
if Mr. De Lolme be not a bombast panegyrist, every 
Briton ought to be proud to die : so that, with all his 
ability as an orator, and all his logical deduction as 
a lawyer, he must pass down the current of time, as 
an Eschines, or Hyperides, a foil, to set off Mr. Pitt^ 
whose ascendant genius has shone with a blaze suf- 
ficient to encircle his own head, even amidst the ru- 
in of his country. 

For my part, I regard the late administration 
with an eye less favourable to the glory of Mr. Pitt, 
than do many of our citizens. The loss of three 
hundred millions sterling, and the gain of ninety 
five peers, are trifling, compared with the loss, in a 
great measure, of that old English spirit, which for- 
merly distinguished John Bull from all other beings, 
and which spirit led our ancestors, first to Leyden, 
and soon after to Plymouth Rock-^an expedition, 
which might have revolted a Scotchman. But the 
iate iron handed administration, fearful of every one 



L 26 J 

who was not clireCtl)', or inclire6\ly a part oi itself, 
in the midst of that terror, which it inspired, dis- 
covered its inibecihty b>' \vhat it was pleased to 
term its own inherent energy. 

Who supports our constitution ? Who supports 
the administration of our government ? Mr. Jeffer- 
son ? No, no : the strength of the government of the 
United States is founded only in legitimate strength, 
in popular sentiment, in popular affe6lion. We have 
no personal attachment to our presidents and gover- 
nors, and ought not to have : we respe6\ them on- 
ly as constitutional statesmen. Such a government 
might be a laughing stock in Europe — more shame 
to Europeans. But this is certainly an experienced 
fa6t, " That those who have once been blessed with 
a free government, have never lost their freedom 
until they were unworthy of it : they could not lose 
their liberties by any accident in the train of world- 
ly vicissitude. They would not, like the oak, be 
subject to the whirlwind, nor like the wheat blade, 
to the silent mildew. Neither force nor fraud ever 
ultimated in successful slavery. Force and fraud 
can find nothing on which to a6l, until the people 
forget their original principle. Sinon in his wooden 
horse may enter Troy ; but his success depends 
on the situation of the Trojans.* There is no good 

• When Sinon entered Troy, they were celebrating a grand Rotd. 



[ 27 ] 

reason for doubting Cromwell's sincerity, at first ; af- 
terwards he thought the nation incapable of a free 
government, and took the most ready method of as- 
certaining the point ; and was successful. I never 
thought worse of Cromwell for his usurpation. He 
was not a tyrant over those who courted his tyran- 
ny. If the English were incapable of self govern- 
ment then, still less so are they at present. Bona- 
parte has tried the same experiment with still less 
force, and with still greater success : fugitive from 
Egypt, he well knew the termination of his journey, 
the empty chairs of the dire^or5\ The English and 
the French have both had an opportunity of estab- 
lishing an equal government. Events have proved 
that the blood of their sovereigns was offered up to 
strange gods. These efforts, in both cases, were 
worth making, but they finally discovered that a 
legitimate republic required principles to which 
the people of both nations were altogether strang- 
ers. When the citizens of the United States be- 
come strangers to these principles, they are no long- 
er free. Should I live to see that day, I should tri- 
umph in their slavery. I cannot find it in my dispo- 
sition to sympathise with tliose, who, having once 
felt the sentiment of liberty, could be rendered cold 
to its influence. The tyrant Tiberius stands ac- 
quitted before that senate, who mingled tears Avitli 



[ 28 ] 

joy, and regret with flattery.* Could John Hamp- 
den have been recalled to life in the days of the sec- 
ond Charles, I have often thought, he must have ex- 
pired in indignation. 

Adieu. 



• Vultuque composite, ne lacti extessu principis, n«u trigtiere* primor<!i», iMry- 
Bias, gaudium, questus, adulationes miseebant. Taeituu 



LETTER VI. 



LOKDOtr, AVGVSr ^oth. 

It is somewhere observed by Dr. Johnson, 
that a deed with all its legal solemnities is one of the 
severest moral satires on mankind which study could 
invent. He need not have gone far to have found 
many more positive and dire6l reflections to the same 
purport. A deed is rather a satire on the approach- 
ing, than on the present, age, being made with a view 
to posterity, who, it supposes will give no more 
credit to the present, than they are obliged to by force 
of law. Beside, a deed supposes only a passive kind 
of dishonesty, which might endeavour to defeat the 
original design by legal interpretation. But an army 
of men,* in time of profound quiet, distributed over 
a city within call of each other, armed, some with 
clubs, and others with blunderbusses, looks very lit-^ 
tie like the extreme, or rather very much like the ex- 
treme of civilization. 

Most of those magnificent houses round London, 
which proudly retiring from the city for the benefit 
of air and prospedl, seem built as much with a view 

• The city watch. 



[ 30 ] 

to external grandeur as to domestic convenience, are 
so completely guarded with high brick walls, that you 
might imagine the Baron's wars had not yet termi- 
nated, for his house in a double sense is the owner's 
castle. Nor can you look into their gardens by rea- 
son of the fortifications ; though you frequently see 
an elevated sign at the corner, requesting you to take 
notice that " Man Traps^^ are placed there. 

The houses in the city, even if they enjoy ten feet 
of rear ground, suffer the inconvenience of dark, con- 
fined air by reason of high walls, the tops of which 
are usually cemented with broken glass bottles — I do 
not say to guard against their neighbours. 

The security of the house in which I reside is guar- 
antied in the following manner. The door has a 
double lock, a chain and two bolts, beside an alarum 
bell, which is carefully fixed to the pannel every 
night. A watchman, if he does his duty, passes by 
the door once in thirty minutes. Another watchman 
is stationed in the yard and doomed to perpetual im- 
prisonment with a chain round his neck. 

This wariness is perhaps as necessary in London, 
as the guarded circumspe^ion in wording, and the 
various formality of executing, a deed. But there is 
another caution, though in appearance much of the 
same complexion, which does the people infinite 
honour. I refer to the christian part of the commu- 



[ 31 ] 

nity, \v!io lock up their pew doors, lest the church 
should be profaned by those who have no right to 
hear the gospel. 

The story which they tell of the savage, who was 
invited to send his son to New York to be educat- 
ed, might have been more highly embellished at Lon- 
don. I know not if you have met with it — The sav- 
age said he would consider of the proposal, but 
would first see the people, and take a view of the city, 
and if he gave the preference to our mode of life 
should have no obje6lion. On entering New York, 
he discovered little of that surprise and admiration 
which novelty usually produces on ignorance. The 
first object which attracted his notice was a negro. 
He had never seen one before : he asked, " Who that 
black person was .'"' and was informed he was a negro 
slave. Themeaningof the word slave being explained, 
he asked the cause of his being a slave. ' ' Why — he 
was black." The Indian said nothing : you know it 
is their habit in the most serious concerns to proceed 
with a coolness which looks like indifference. Pres- 
ently he observed a gentleman getting out of a coach, 
with the assistance of two or three people : this ar- 
rested his attention. He asked, " Who he might 
be ?" and was told he was a very rich man who was 
afflidled with the gout. He asked, " What the gout 
might be ?" and was informed. The savage said 



[ 32 J 

nothing, but passed on. Presently after, he saw a 
man, apparently in distress, enter a certain building, 
under the guard of another. He asked the reason of 
this, and " Why the building looked so gloomy ?" 
He was told it was a prison in which both those who 
would not, and those who could not, pay their debts 
were confined. The savage said nothing. He now 
saw a beggar asking charity, and demanded, " What 
made so much difference between those two men ?'* 
The explanation of this involved moft of the princi- 
pal relations of society. The savage paused, and 
seemed to refiedl with deep consideration. At 
length he smote his breast, and said he would pro- 
ceed no further : nor could he be persuaded to tarry 
one night in the city. 

I have imagined the same ivildman^s mode of rea- 
soning had he come to London. I pass over those 
few particulars which speak full as strongly, I think, 
as Dr. Johnson's deed. 

Had he entered the city by the west end, he might 
have seen, on Hounslow Heath, two of those gentle- 
men who live and die at the public expense, sus- 
pended on gibbets ; one of whom, from the appear- 
ance of the skeleton, must have been a remarkably 
fine fellow. He would suppose these skeletons Were 
monuments, sacred to the memory of redoubted 
chiefs, and animating examples to the rising genera- 



[ 33 ] 

ition, of undaunted valour, wary stratagem, or Indian 
fortitude. The savage would naturally inquire, 
" How they encountered their death, in what glori- 
ous, but fatal struggle they fell, what unusual ex- 
ploits they performed to merit such a conspicuous 
station, and what enemy had the honour of conquer- 
ing them ?" Alas, he would be told the scene of ac- 
tion was Hounslow Heath, the encounter memorable 
only in the Newgate calendar, that they were thought 
to merit their high station in the unanimous opinion 
of twelve men, and the famous fellow, who triumph- 
ed over them, was one Jack Ketch. After the crimi- 
nal code of English law had been explained to him, 
he would find sufficient to divert his mind until he 
reached Hyde Park corner. 

By the time he arrived there, he would be render- 
ed so tame, he would not dare to reach over a hedge 
to cut a walking stick. What a reflection ! that he, 
who had been accustomed to consider the largest 
quarter of the globe his park, all the rivers and lakes, 
his fishery, and all the forests subservient to his ne- 
cessities or pleasures — That he, who had considered 
himself the centre of being, and fancied the circle of 
creation moved with himself, should suddenly find 
his person in the king's highway, and liable to be put 
in closer confinement if he overstepped the narrow 
limit of sixty or seventy feet ! 



[ 34 ] 

To shock his feelings as little as possible, I would 
not hurry him into the city, but would take him to 
St. James' Park, in order to show him the decency, 
the order, and the magnificence of a well regulated 
government. But even here, he would ask certain 
questions, which it might be invidious to answer. 
The numerous houses of noblemen which border 
the park would raise the question of their origin and 
present support. — " This man's ancestor found the 
weak side of a weak prince, and his posterity have 
been maintained ever since at the public expense : 
that man's great ancestor by his abilities became so 
formidable to the state, that it was found necessary, 
in order to change his condu6l, to quiet him with an 
earldom : and though nature through his descend- 
ants has infli6led a posthumous penance on him, for 
perverting his abilities, yet that only affe^ls their in- 
telle6ls, not their dignity. That house is considered 
one of the first in the kingdom, because the proprie- 
tor's ancestor, many years ago, nearly ruined the na- 
tion. " " But does not every age produce a sufficient 
number of chiefs," the savage would ask, " why then 
the necessity of making those chiefs who had none 
of the requisite qualities ?" The shortest answer 
would be. They never were made such, and 
that themselves were in general nothing more 
than refleiSted greatness, like that moon which he had 



[ 35 3 

so often seen when standing on the banks of the Po- 
tomac. 

On viewing the king's guards, the question would 
occur, *' If it were a time of war ?" Being answered 
in the negative, he would naturally ask, " Of what 
use were these soldiers in time of peace, and by 
whom supported ?" After informing him, that men 
in Europe were so depraved that their chiefs were 
obliged to raise armies to keep them in awe, he 
would ask, " Where those chiefs procured necessa- 
ries to subsist and clothe them ?" The people them- 
sehes^ to guarantij their own obedient conduct^ raised 
them and paid their expenses. This would be alto- 
gether unintelligible, and it would be necessary to 
enter into a thousand political relations, which would 
only serve to perplex him still more. 

He should now be shewn the Tower. After view- 
ing the trophies, and the armoury, with which he 
would be enraptured, and comparing the armour of 
former days with the stature of the present, he would 
ask, " For what purpose it was built ?" On being 
told, *' To defend the city," he would naturally in- 
quire, " Why some of the port holes opened direct- 
ly on the town ?" 

In passing down to Wapping, he should meet a 
press gang, who had apprehended some sailors. He 
should be told these sort of people were carried on 



[ 36 ] 

board the shipping, to the amount of eightj^ or an 
hundred thousand men, and confined there for the 
space of four, six, and eight years. He would prob- 
ably ask, since the criminal code has been explained 
to him, " What enormous crimes had they commit- 
ted, to be thought worthy of such an inhuman pun- 
ishment ?" He would be told, These people, so far 
from having committed any crime, were in reality 
the most useful branch of the community, and were 
aftually esteemed the grand pillars of the empire. 
Here the poor devil would be confounded ; and 
might exclaim in the Esquimaux or Mohawk diar 
le6l, Credat Judaiis Apella ; non Ego. 

In returning" from Wapping, he should just look 
into the Royal Exchange. Observing the continued 
hum of the citizens, he would ask, " Why those peo- 
ple appeared so busy about nothing ?" and would 
greatly admire on being told here was concentred 
the vital principle of the nation, which diffused its in- 
fluence throughout the world : that here was the 
heart of the empire ; but unlike the human heart, 
which issues the current of life through the body, it 
drew from the lour quarters of the globe its own sup- 
port. It would then be necessary to enter into the 
history of the East and West Indies. " But, if one 
half of the world suffer more or less to subserve the 
wants of this people, why have I seen so many of those 



[ 37 ] 

you call beggars ?" The national debt must now be 
explained, in order to convince him that it was abso- 
lutely necessary one half of the nation should prey 
upon the other : and that for each of those whom he 
saw in the Exchange there must be many who want- 
ed bread. — But what of that ? The rich delight to 
see themselves surrounded with the poor, because 
from them they gain one half of their consequence. 

By this time, the savage would become incredu- 
lous, and imagining his facility was tempted, his im- 
patience might rise to indignation. Therefore, to 
give him a practical view of London on the body, 
mind and life, he should visit Heaviside's Anatomi- 
cal Museum, Bedlam and the Old Bailey— -and 
whether he would leave the city more or less a sav- 
age, I think it rather doubtful. 

Adieu. 



LETTER VII. 

— 

LONDON, SEPTEMBER nth. 

JL HE English people are more civil than 
ours : at least they are more disposed to street civ- 
ility. I have not accosted a Londoner whose ready 
attention did not surprise me, nor indeed any of the 
country people. But there is a perceptible differ- 
ence between the civility of the plebeian and the gen- 
tleman. If you request a gentleman for any little 
matter of information, he may possibly seem to say, 
" I am no guide post," while the plebeian is ready to 
become pne. However, in general, you are sure to 
meet with that cordiality which one owes another, 
who has placed in him so much confidence, as event- 
ually to expose himself to a degree of ill treatment, 
by being roughly answered. A pertinent question, 
accompanied with a demeanour which does not as- 
sume superiority, invariably receives from the com- 
mon people, a decent regard, if not a disinterested 
oificiousness. This was unexpe6l:ed, as the En- 
glish are usually called barbarians by foreigners. 

From whatever cause this urbanity proceeds, it is 
certainly pleasing to a stranger, who finds himself 



[ 39 ] 

among a million of people, nine tenths of whom owe 
so little to society. 

Not so with our citizens ; they seem to carry the 
Declaration of Independence in their pockets,, and 
regard the least degree of urbanity which may possi- 
bly be construed into obsequiousness, a breach of 
the constitution. Strangers are most likely to ob- 
serve this ; hence their first impressions are unfav- 
ourable. 

This want of urbanity, I am inclined to think, is 
the offspring of manners, rather than of morals, and 
does not affe6l the disposition. The Chinese are 
said to be the most civil people in the world. The 
French too are more noted for politeness, than cor- 
diality. I believe the cause is to be sought in the 
form of government : it is a political paradox, I al- 
low, that people under the worst form of government 
should even appear to have any commendable quali- 
ties : yet despotic governments have ever produced 
the most pliant, accomodating and obliging subje6ls, 
while in limited monarchies they have departed from 
this chara<Sler in the degree that their monarchy has 
been limited; while democracies have ever produc- 
ed the contrary character in the degree the democ- 
racy has approached to a state of nature. We have 
a remarkable instance of this in the anecdote record- 
ed in Robertson's Charles 5th. Clovis was nomi- 



[ 40 ] 

nally king of the Franks. His followers, on a certain 
expedition, had plundered, among other things, a 
vase belonging to a church. The Bishop sent depu- 
ties to Clovis to beseech him to return the sacred 
vessel, and Clovis, willing to restore it, requested 
the soldiers to permit him to take that vase for him- 
self, before the plunder was divided, when a fierce 
soldier stepped forth and with his battle axe broke 
it into a thousand pieces, saying, " He should have 
nothing which his lot did not give him." 

I am still less willing to beheve this spirit of sub- 
servience indicative of a substantial virtue to which 
our own citizens are strangers. A late physician has 
supposed thirty seven persons to die daily in Lon- 
don from want of the real necessaries of life. Yet 
London, above all places, is renowned for charita- 
table institutions and voluntary subscriptions ; while 
the cities of the United States, Charleston and New- 
York excepted, are chiefly famous in the journals of 
travellers for debt and credit. Yet I am sure it 
would be suicide, should a man starve to death in 
the United States. However, it is no refle6lion on 
the humanity of England if many die of want : to 
provide for all who are suffering would exhaust the 
bounty of providence. With us the case is different ; 
the fervency of many a pious christian's charity 
cools before he can find an opportunity of bestowing 



[ 41 ] 

it : and because charities are consequently unusual, 
certain superficial observers have supposed a want of 
that sympathy, to excite which there is no objedl. 

Europeans believe the people of the United States 
to be preeminent for hospitality, on account of the 
facility of obtaining a livelihood. Whereas, in fa6t, 
they ought to be the least hospitable of any people. 
If you except the single case of merchants, you will 
find hospitality has ever flourished most, where there 
has been the greatest inequality of rank and fortune. 
It is a feudal, rustic virtue, which the vigour of 
equality relaxes, and which the decay of chivalry 
renders useless. Where there are few beggars, there 
will be little charity, and where there is a prevalent 
equality of condition, there will be little hospitality. 
Yet surely, that town cannot be thought inhospit- 
able, through which no human being could pass 
with an empty stomach, if he would condescend to 
make his wants known. But I do not mention this 
in contrast to the country people of England, seven 
eighths of whom are labouring tenants, with the ex- 
ception of those, who, not attaining to such an estab- 
lishment, depend on their precarious labour : this cir- 
cumstance, connected withthestate of society , which, 
in consequence of land monopoly, originating in a 
spirit of commerce, has rendered their condition ten 
times worse than feudal, must naturally raise a hedge 

G 



[ 42 ] 

about their hearts, and contract the generous affec- 
tions. 

I know that the opinion obtains in books, that our 
distresses soften the heart, and lead to commisera- 
tion. Yet universal experience is to the contrary. 
Present distress engrosses our sensations, and ren- 
ders us altogether selfish : past pains we know to 
have been tolerable, and are inclined to despise 
those, who do not support them with dignity. 
Thus Tacitus, ^dppe Rufus diu manipularis^ de- 
inde centiirio^ mox castris prcsfectus^ antiquam du- 
ramque militiam re^ocabat^ 'uelus operis ac lahorls^ 
et eo immidor^ quia tolera'uerat. The negroes, 
who are made overseers of plantations, are said to 
be the most severe taskmasters. Blood familiarises 
to blood : Achilles, who was discovered in the hab- 
it of a virgin, romping among girls at a boarding 
school, could after ten year's warfare, please him- 
self with the sight of the dead body of the respe<Sla- 
ble He6lor, dragged at his chariot wheels. Ter cir- 
cum Iliacos rapta^verat Hector a muros. In short, 
those who have suffered most distress, are the most 
ready to laugh at the distresses of others. Hence, 
old age is less than youth disposed to pity. Were 
it not so, the people of Europe would be doubly 
wretched, for their circumstances, in general, would 
oblige them to contrail their hand in the moment 
of benevolence. 



[ 43 ] 

Yet principles are inculcated, which, should they 
operate kindly, would only add to their misery. 
Why instill noble sentiments into the minds of those, 
whose fixed situation in life tells them noble senti- 
ments would not be suifered in persons of their con- 
dition, and would even be a barrier to a livelihood ? 
Sentiment ought never to rise higher, than perma- 
nent condition. Hence, why teach the negro the 
christian religion ? You only fire him with indig- 
nation, and give him a weapon which ouglit to slay 
yourself. Why teach a Jcav toleration, or even 
common honesty ? When all nations, except ours, 
persecute them for die glory of God, and bind them 
down by restriction, disability and local inconve- 
nience. The practical part of the christian religion 
is built on charity, sympathy, conmiunity, equality. 
Then how absurd to teach the christian duties one 
day, which, politically, must be countera»Sled the six 
following ? In a country like this, where there are so 
many species of men, there should be as many codes 
of morality, as there are conditions in the state. 
For the same moral principles imposed on all, op- 
erate unequally : to bind a poor man to the same 
principles you do a rich man, is unjust. All po- 
litical institutions, even the best, operate against 
the poor, and in favour of the rich. Law and equi.. 
ty guard against these consequences as much as they 



[ 44 ] 

can, still, the operation of law is altogether on the 
side of the wealthy, and is rather a fortification to 
the powerful, than a prote6lion to the weak. For- 
tunately for Europe, custom, prejudice and educa- 
tion dispose her subjects to acquiesce ; otherwise 
they would countervail to a degree, which her po- 
litical systems could not tolerate. 

Adieu, 



LETTER VIII. 



LONDON, SEPTEMBf.R 25th. 

X HE English have not that esteem for the 
citizens of the United States, which might natural- 
ly be expe6\ed from the various relations ^hich ob- 
tain between them : in truth, they are partial to 
nobody. They hate all whom they do not des- 
pise, while the latter can only render hatred for con- 
tempt. Machiavel would probably think it a na- 
tional virtue, to hate or despise all other people : but 
the English have improved on this. They under- 
value their own fellow subjefls, as much as they do 
foreigners. A poor Scotchman, who is necessitated 
to take the main road to England, because Sir John 
Sinclair has deprived him of the means of subsist- 
ence, by converting thirty six small farms into one, 
in order to try an experiment in raising sheep,* is 
thought to be a very selfish fellow, if he comes to 
London, to shun the curse of Scotland. The Irish- 
man too, tired at home of sour buttermilk and pota- 
toes, is considered a poor vagabond, the moment 

* Since writing the abovej I observe Sir John has vindicated this ineascre;, and 
tiie Reviewers think the vindication an able one. I hope Sir John's tenants are of the 
same opinion. 



[ 46 ] 

he crosses the channel in search of roast beef and 
plumb pudding. — Had the United States continued 
under the British government, we should have been 
the most contemptible of mankind. The English 
would have been the first to despise us : at present, 
they regard the United States with a sentiment far 
more honourable, than that of contempt. 

It is very easy for these people to tell you what 
they do not respe6^ ; on the contrary, what they do 
respe^l, is not so evident. They differ wonderfully 
from the Scotch, in one particular : a Scot is partial 
to liis fellow- Scotchmen, with very little fondness 
for Scotland : an Englishman is still more partial 
to England, with very little fondness for English- 
men — One might suppose such a people must be 
insufferably haughty ; yet he would greatly mistake 
tlieir character. I have never seen a haughty En- 
glishman. They could not live within a mile of 
each other, were they both proud and haughty : 
but being only proud, they mutually respe^l each 
other ; whereas, it is the property of haughtiness to 
be arrogant. Now the EngUsh admit not sucli 
claims. He who is haughty will inevitably render 
himself ridiculous to all who despise his airs : I do 
not recollect an instance of having seen an English- 
man ridiculous on this account ; hence, though 
dieir characters are extremely angular, they are 
rather defensively, than offensively, proud. 



t 47 ] 

Nor are they more vain, than haughty : they 
dress, conclu6l, think as they please, and set every 
body at defiance. At the same time, if they know 
you esteem them, and feel conscious they have not 
demeaned themselves in obtaining your estimation, 
none can be more happy in possessing your good 
opinion. This carelessness of the opinion of other 
people shows itself among all ranks, especially the 
lowest. The swing of the arm, the incautious step, 
tlie rolling of the body, tell you plainly *' They care 
fornobody, no not they :" but this, in part, may 
be owing to a desperate majesty which they as- 
sume ; for which the very lowest of the English are 
remarkable. Those, who are more immediately 
dependent on others for a livelihood, have a mixed 
character of servility and independence. They 
cherish the estimation of those on whom they are 
dependent ; but seem utterly regardless of the good 
opinion of other people. The middling ranks follow 
their own inclinations, and are the original of their 
own manners .; hence they form a motley picture, 
diversified, from quaker simplicity, to an appear- 
ance of studied artifice : but this appearance seldom 
arises from affe6lation, they are above that, but rath- 
er from whim. The nobility, judging at a distance, 
appear to me to build their characters much more 
on the populace, than do the populace build theirs 



[ 48 ] 

on the nobility. But I am disposed to believe it 
policy and afFe6lation which so frequendy induce 
tlie nobility to dress more meanly, than many 
among the lower orders : policy, to conciliate ; af- 
fectation , of seeming to attach no consequence to 
their rank. The king is liable to the same remark ; 
he has much more of the external appearance of 
John Bull, than of the German ; he is frequently 
seen not better dressed than one of our farmers, 
with an old hat not worth sixpence — But I was 
speaking of the nationality of this people. 

It is a happy circumstance that this attachment 
is so deeply rooted in the great mass of the Eng- 
lish. It serves a substitute for real patriotism. 
The rich, in every country, if they retain those sen- 
timents for which an honest man ought to blush, may 
be tolerably happy, whether they happen to live at 
Constantinople, Venice or Madrid : but by far the 
greater part of every nation in Europe, and that 
part, to which a nation looks for support in the mo- 
ment of emergency, is fortunately retained in the 
wizard spell of prejudice. 

I will give you one or two instances of this nation- 
al partiality, which have already passed under my 
notice. 

At an ordinary, the other day, I heard two politi- 
cians, one friendly, the other inimical to Mr. Pitt's 



[ 49 ] 

administration, advance their different sentiments. 
You observe I do not term one of them whig and 
the other tory. There is no such distinction now, 
I believe, in England. Dr. Johnson was the last of 
the latter family. — The one contended " That the 
constitution of 1692 was no longer the boast of En- 
glishmen ; that it was a mere prejudice to support 
longer a form of government, which had evaporated 
to theory, and which could not support itself on 
first principles : that Mr. Pitt had told the whole 
world, that a chancellor of the exchequer had it 
in his power to guide the parliament at pleasure, 
whereby the democratic branch of the constitution 
was become a dead letter." The other opposed 
him on the grounds of expediency, popular disaffec- 
tion and the latitude of ministerial prerogative. A 
few days afterward, I observed the former gentle- 
man at the sarhe place, and suspecting his every-day 
politics wereassumed, urged a conversation, first giv- 
ing him to understand, I to as not a subject of his Maj- 
esty^ in order to touch more nearly his national pride. 
Otherwise it would have been impolitic : for, the 
moment an Englishman discovers you to be a for- 
eigner, he assumes a different aspeCl, not in the least 
conciliating. I observed, after a few minutes of dis- 
connected conversation, " That England had in a 
great measure lost that proud preeminence, which 



[ 50 ] 

she supported under the auspices of Walpole and 
Chatham." "Old England," he replied, "for a 
century past, has been obhged to support the dignity 
of all Europe against the open force and secret in- 
trigue of France : that the history of the last centu- 
ry, take it all together, was as splendid as any former, 
and though the late administration had beggared the 
country, the honour of the nation was unsullied, its 
dignity increased, and its spirit unbroken." " But 
do you think an Englishman can rest his heart on 
the bosom of his country, now, with as much com- 
placency as he might half a century past ?" " Yes, 
sir, with much more ; when England is most dis- 
tressed, then is she most loved. " " But, love for our 
country ought to proceed from principle, not from a 
naked attachment to its soil. Is your constitution, 
which has extorted the admiration of your enemies, 
as operative now, as it was half a century since ?" 
"No doubt; for it is better understood, and more 
nicely defined : but suppose we had no constitu- 
tion at all, to what country would an Englishman 
emigrate?" 

The other instance occurred over a pot of porter ^ 
between a French emigrant and a full blooded En- 
glishman, whose pedigree had not probably been 
crossed, since the days of Canute. The Frenchman 
thought porter was too gross for those who led an 



[ 51 ] 

idle life, and generally rendered those, who drank 
much of it, dull and stupid. This, in the opinion of 
the Englishman, amounted to an attack on the na- 
tional chara«Sler : and calling for another pot, like 
another Lord Peter, he endeavoured to persuade the 
Frenchman that, in a pot of porter was contained the 
quintessence of the best wines of every climate. 
The Frenchman thought there was not so much vi- 
vacity in it, as in Champaigne. " True," said John 
Bull, '^ there is not so much e"japoratwn, but it has 
more /jsart.^^ 

This man might not have crusaded to Jerusalem 
in behalf of religion, but he might have been led 
double the distance in support of barley and hops. 

It is said, that two beggars entered into partner- 
ship ; but, on counting their money, the one never 
colle^led so much as the other. The cause of this 
was for a long time a matter of speculation between 
them ; especially, as the one, who colle6led the 
least, had the best address. At length the more 
successful one asked his fellow, " Of what terms 
he made use in begging ?" he replied, "That de- 
pended on the passengers. If they looked humane, 
it was simply, "God bless you ;" if they were hard 
featured, " for God's sake." " O," said the other, 
*' that explains it — tomorrow, beg for the honour of 
Old England." 



C 52 ] 

When it was mentioned to an Englishman, *' The 
French were restoring their navy," he observed, he 
was happy to hear it: being questioned, why? he 
answered, sublimely enough, " They are working 
for us." 

Good God ! if a poor devil, who has not a foot of 
land in the island, and whose ancestors, possibly, 
fromfadiertoson, for many generations, have never 
owned even a cottage, which might serve for a mon- 
ument of their having been members of the social 
compaft : I say, if such people, who seem to be out- 
lawed from God's providence, are so fondly attached 
to a country, which affords them only an abstra6V, 
indefinite sentiment of affe6lion, I can easily believe 
what is reported of the Spartan women, who, when 
their children survived the battle of Leu6lra, put on 
mourning, while the mothers of those who were 
slain, went in procession to the temple, and returned 
thanks to the gods. — What sort of characters will 
the citizens of the United States discover in the time 
of national emergency, who possess a pra6\ical form 
of government, which Plato dared only contemplate, 
and which the sanguine imagination of Rousseau 
never led him to hope ! 

Adieu. 



LETTER IX. 

LONDON, OCTOBER iff/i. 

X HE following letter will be composed of a 
variety of particulars, which may be worthy the no- 
tice of a citizen of the United States. 

The most humourous sight which I have seen, was 
an English funeral, performed in the most fashiona- 
ble manner : for you must know, they perform fun- 
erals here. An undertaker's sign exhibits these 
words, " Funerals performed.'''' The first one 
which I saw was such a novelty, I follow ed it a short 
distance, not knowing what it was ; and, as my man- 
ner is to question every one who I think can give 
me any information, (a yankee custom) I asked an 
honest fellow, " what the shew was V He seemed a 
little ofFended,butdire6lly replied, " Toumay kficw, 
one day, if you do not come to the gallows.''^ This 
man, like Chatham, was " original and unaccommo- 
dating." But, observing that I was surprised at his 
answer, and feeling, perhaps, a little mortified, he 
asked, '* If I lived in London ?" I told him I had 
just come. *' Well, but people die, sometimes, in 
your town." By this, I discovered the performance 



[ 54 ] 

was a funeral. The plumes being white, sign of a 
virgin, instead of black, which are more usually dis- 
played, account for my ignorance. Had I been in 
Pekin, I should have expelled a white funeral, but 
was not prepared to see one in London. 

When a rich man dies, an undertaker, or fashion- 
able performer is ordered, who employs a sort of 
equipages, drawn by horses, which I mistook for 
baggage waggons, in one of which he puts the body, 
while several hired men, dressed fantastically in 
black, walk on each side, with not more unconcern 
than should be expedled. Two men on horseback 
precede the first waggon, which contains the body ; 
those which follow display the plumes, the sight of 
which made me so merry. The mourners follow in 
the rear, in coaches. I never until now understood 
that line in Young, 

Nor ends with life, but twds hi sable plumes,- 

though, with due deference to Young, I think this is 
rather a dead man's vanity, than a love of fame ; for 
no mortal can be so weak as to expe^l personal fame 
from a pompous funeral. 

After having witnessed an English funeral, you 
would not think those lines of Pope exaggerated, in 
which he represents a dying beauty, in hysterics, 
lest they should lay her out in woollen, and supposes 
her to call Betty to " give her cheek a little red," lest 
she should appear ugly in the coffin. 



[ 55 ] 

I believe our funeral processions in New England 
arecondutled much in the manner as they were in 
ancient Rome. On the death of Appius, in the year 
of Rome 284, Livy says, It is reported the people 
assembled at his house to swell the funeral pro- 
cession. £t exsequias frequens celehraiiit. 

The Jews are worthy of particular notice. I have 
bestowed not a little street reflection on this misera- 
ble race, and feel disposed to speak a word in their 
favour. If we contemplate their situation, even in 
England, where they are less persecuted than in any 
other country, except the United States, we shall 
find them indirectly driven to prey on the public ; 
and compelled, by their disabilities, to a continual 
counteraction. Eligible to no office, incapable of 
holding land, or even of possessing a house, with 
the additional hardship of being despised ; they are 
a sort of Indian Farias, and are absolutely proscrib- 
ed from the social compaCt, and reduced to a state 
worse, than that of simple nature ; for in opening their 
eyes to their condition, they find nothing on which 
to rest but the canopy of heaven. Now, I would 
appeal to Tully 's Offices, or even to Dr. Johnson, if 
a man thus situated by force^ insidiously legalised 
under the sanction of laiv, ought to be honest ; and 
whether a man thus circumstanced, would not have 
a moral right to countervail, by every means in his 



[ 56 ] 

power. Under such restri6lions, can a Jew be ex- 
pe6ted to philanthropise, or in the moment of benev- 
olence, can his heart wander out of the precindls of 
his own nation, when early sentiments have neces- 
sarily been contaminated by all the arts of low com- 
merce to which his nation is reduced ? A benevo- 
lent Hebrew would be a monster. Hence, a Jew's 
passion cannot be reputation of any kind, but must 
concentre in money. Therefore, Shakespeare's im- 
aginary Shylock is not exadlly true to nature : a 
Jew, in such a case, would have accepted all the mo- 
ney he could have extorted, and have foregone his 
revenge. Yet this imaginary Shylock has prejudic- 
ed thousands of christians, who never saw a Jew, 
against the whole tribe of Israel : while those very 
christians, who read the story of a certain Duke, 
who demanded a large sum of money from a Jew, 
and extorted four of his teeth before he could extort 
the money, are greatly surprised at the jfew's obsti- 
nacy. In short, the Jews owe the christians nothing 
but hatred and revenge, Avhether they revert back to 
former times, or regard the present. 

The operation of those disabilities and restric- 
tions, which the christian imposes on the Jew, is 
just what ought to be expelled. Is a house on fire, 
he is happy to see it, the old nails afford a specula- 
tion. Crimes, for aught he cares, may multiply 



[ 57 ] 

with impunity, he is the last person to inform : who 
ever heard of a Jew informer ? The more thieves, 
the more distress, the more boundless extravagance, 
the fairer the prospect; to him, private vices are 
public benefits. Is the nation ruined ? he has noth- 
ing to lament, having no tye, no amor patriae, no at- 
tachment ; but he is not quite ready to leave the 
country, a nation in ruins is a Jew fair. 

If the Jews were more disposed to agriculture, 
they might find in the United States a resting place, 
and notwithstanding their religion, they might flour- 
ish as well there, as at Jerusalem, or on the more 
favourite banks of the Jordan. 

I shall notice an occurrence now, which will af- 
ford you an idea of the manners of the metropolis, 
contrasted with those of the United States. I was a 
fe^v days since walking with a young fellow, with 
whom I am acquainted, in Newman Street, a res- 
pectable part of the west end of the town, and ob- 
serving a frail fair one, sitting at her chamber win- 
do^\% I asked my companion, he having been at Pa- 
ris, whether the sex were really more rescrv^ed in 
London, than at Paris? He said, "London and 
Paris might be much alike in that particular, and 
yet the manners of the sex be very different in 
France and England. He then asked if I was will- 
ing to see how far a little genteel impudence would 
I 



[ 58 ] 

carry him ? — I had no objection. — Then knocking 
at the door of an elegant house, he asked if a Miss 
Grey occupied the first floor. The servant rcpUed, 
" No, there was no lodger there." Proceeding on 
a little further, he knocked at a second door ; a 
young Miss opened it. " Pray, Miss, is your first 
or second floor occupied by a lady ?" " There is a 
lady in the first floor, sir." " Does she see compa- 
ny ?" The girl did not seem to understand this ques. 
tion fully, but said she would ask. Presently the 
mother came, who, half offended, yet struggling to 
support both her respectability and polite?iess, assur- 
ed him the lady saw no company. The third trial 
succeeded : " Pray madam, is your first or second 
floor occupied by a lady?" *' Yes, sir, whom do 
you wish to see ?" "Miss Grey." " There is no 
such person here:" *' O, yes there is." "Her 
name is not Grey, sir." " Yes it is, she may have 
a new one at present, but her name is Grey." 
" Who shall I say wishes to see her ?" " ^^ very 
particular friend.''^ Presently we were shown up : 
without knocking at her door, he ushered himself 
in, and assuming a most familiar look, " Ha, Miss, 
have I found you again ? Well, I protest you have 
ill treated me, but I am easily reconciled :" at the 
same time he flung himself down by the side of her, 
on a sofa. The lady, for a moment, seemed doubt- 



[ 59 ] 

ful, whether among her multitude of friends, he 
might not be one whom she had forgotten ; at the 
same time she appeared to be a little suspicious, 
probably from the circumstance of there being two, 
that it was only a frolic. However, whether she 
a^led from the first, or last consideration, she per- 
formed her part with surprising success : taking his 
hand with the frankest cordiality, she assured him, 
he had no reason to complain, for on leaving her 
former lodgings, she had left her address for him, 
where he would certainly find it, if he would take 
the trouble to call. 

Good God ! said I, after we had left the girl, what 
must be the condition of those, to whose bed cham- 
bers admission is so easy r This girl cannot be 
twenty, yet she seems to accommodate herself to her 
situation with as much ease, as though she had nev- 
er expelled a better. In a state of innocence she 
must have been captivating : her conversation is so 
sensible, that it diverts attention from her personal 
charms, and dignifies immodesty. Is it possible 
that a girl like this, should prefer her present condi- 
tion to a marriage life ? " Doubtless not," my 
friend replied, " but if she was poor, as in all proba- 
bility she was, handsome as she is, she might have 
waited till her auburn locks had become gray, be- 
fore she could have found a husband. Pnideni 



[ 60 ] 

men in England, who are without fortune, especial- 
ly those who are affluent, are in no haste to marry 
poor girls." 

Since the humourous occurrence at Newman 
Street, I have read Colquhoun's " Police of Lon- 
don," and from one of his positions am enabled to 
draw consequences, too affedling to be contem- 
plated. 

There were in 1800, agieeably to the returns, 
373,655 males, and 444,474 females in the city of 
London and Westminster. The excess of females 
you will find to be 70,819. If this proportionate 
excess obtained throughout England, this would be 
the most miserable country on the globe. Of these 
444,474 females, Mr. Colquhoun supposes 50,000 
to gain all, or part of their subsistence by — prostitu- 
tion : hence, more than one ninth of all the females 
in London are whores. If we suppose two ninths 
of the 444,474 to be imhin the years of sedu61ion, 
and one more ninth to be without the years of temp- 
tation, we shall find one in six of all those who are 
within the reach of prostitution, lost to innocence ! 

War, commerce and emigration, must of necessi- 
ty render the condition of the sex in England rather 
severe. Nature has kindly ordered the proportion 
of males and females as thirteen to twelve : the fin- 
est argument in favour of an overruling Providence, 



[ 6i 1 

with which I have ever met. The avocations and 
accidents to which our sex are peculiarly hable, ren- 
der this excess necessary. Thus far the economy 
of nature, which in most countries has dealt unkind- 
ly with the fair sex : but in England, they have 
nothing of which to complain but of the perversion 
of the laws of nature, and of a complicated system of 
things, the evils of which mostly fall on the weaker 
sex. 

Adieu. 



LETTER X. 



LONDON, OCTOBER 30tk. 

1 HAVE lately made a most important discov- 
ery, which has displayed one of the great secrets 
of English rank. You, in the United States, 
knowing nothing of this, will consider the follow- 
ing authentic history of rank a singular curiosity. 

They have confined the several species of man 
within such definite limits, in this country, that the 
moment they hear a knocking at their doors, tl^y 
can tell you whether it be a servant, a postman, a 
milkman, a half or whole gentleman, a very great 
gentleman, a knight, or a nobleman. 

A servant is bound to lift the knocker once : 
should he usurp a nobleman's knock he would haz- 
ard his situation. A postman knocks twice, very 
loudly. A milkman knocks once, at the same time, 
sending forth an artificial noise, not unlike the yell 
of an American Indian. A mere gentleman usual- 
ly knocks three times, moderately : a terrible fellow 
feels authorized to knock thrice, very loudly, gen- 
erally adding to these, two or three faint knocks, 
which seem to run into each other : but there is 



I 63 ] 

considerable art in doing this elegantly, therefore it 
is not always attempted : but it is a valuable accom- 
plishmeat — A stranger who should venture at an 
imitation would immediately be taken for an up- 
start — A knight presumes to give a double knocks that 
is, six raps, with a few faint ones at the end. I 
have not yet ascertained the various peculiarities, 
which distinguish the degrees between the baronet 
and the nobleman ; but this I know, too well, that 
a nobleman, at any time of night, is allowed 
to knock so long and loud, that the whole neigh- 
bourhood is frequently disturbed ; and although 
fifty people may be deprived of their night's rest, 
there is no redress at law nor equity. Nor have I 
learnt how long and loud a prince of the blood pre- 
sumes to knock, though, doubtless, he might knock 
an hour or two, by way of distinction. 

You may hold your sides, if you please, but I 
assure you I am perfeftly serious. These people 
are so tenacious of this prerogative, that a true 
blooded Englishman goes near to think it a part of 
British liberty. Indeed, I am convinced, I could 
place certain Enghshmen in a situation, in which, 
rather than knock at a door but once, they would 
fight a duel every day in the week. Good heaven, 
how would a fine gentleman appear, if obliged to 
knock but once, at the door of a fashionable lady, to 



[ 64 ] 

whose party he had been invited, while, at the same 
moment, a number of his every-day friends, passing 
by, might observe the circumstance ! I cannot con- 
ceive of a more distressing occurrence. The mo- 
ment he entered the room, the eyes of the whole 
company would be turned on him ; he would be- 
lieve himself disgraced forever, he would feel him- 
self annihilated, for all his imaginary consequence 
would have forsaken him, without which, an En- 
glishman feels himself to be nothing. 

You may imagine it a very easy matter to pass 
from the simple rap of the fervant, to that of the 
nobleman : but let me inform you these little mono- 
syllables stand in the place of Alpine mountains, 
which neither vinegar*^ nor valour can pass. Her- 
cules and Theseus, those vagabond, but respc6lable 
bullies, who governed by personal strength, instead 
of a standing army, would have hesitated an enter- 
prise against these raps. They have, by prescrip- 
tion, risen nearly to the dignity of Common Law, of 
which strangers as well as natives are bound to take 
notice. I was lately placed in a pleasant position 
through ignorance of this : soon after my arrival, I 
received an invitation to dine with a gentleman, and 
in my economical way, with the greatest simplicity, 
I gave one reasonable rap : after a considerable 

* Hannibal is said to have employed vinegar in his par.<!age through trie Alp.'. 



[ 65 ] 

time, a servant opened the door, and asked me luhat 
I 'wanted! I told him Mr, * *- * * *. He replied, 
"his master had company, but he would see if he 
could be spoken with." In the mean time, I was 
left in the entry. Presently Mr. ***** came, 
who, a little mortiiicd, began to reprove the ser- 
vant ; but it appeared in tlie sequel he was perfc6^1y 
right, for on telling Mr. *****, " / knocked but 
once^'''' he burst into a laugli, and said he would ex- 
plain that at dinner. 

Should an honest fellow, ignorant of the conse- 
quence of these raps, come to London in search 
of a place, and unfortunately knock at a gentleman's 
door, after the manner of a nobleman, it might prej- 
udice him as much as a prayer book once prejudic- 
ed a certain person iji Conne6licut. The anecdote 
is this : 

A young adventurer, educated Church -of-Eng- 
land-wise, on going forth to seek his fortune, very 
naturally put his prayer book in his pocket. Wan- 
dering within the precin6ls of Connecticut, he of- 
fered his services to a farmer, who, after asking him 
a thousand questions, (a New England custom) 
gave him employment ; but in the evening, the un- 
lucky prayer book being discovered, he fairly turn- 
ed the poor wight out of doors to get a lodging 
where he could. You know the Conne6licut Blue 

K 



[ 66 ] 

JLaws* made it death for a priest, meaning a clergy- 
man of the Church of England, to be found within 
that state ! Thank heaA^en, those days are passed : 
*' God, liberty and toleration," whether a man pre- 
fers a prayer book to the missal, or the koran to a 
prayer book, or a single rap at a door, to the noise 
of a dozen. 

Adieu. 
N. B. You must keep this letter a profound se- 
cret, as we have certain gentlemen on our side of the 
Atlantic who would, in imitation of the noblemen 
here, disturb their neighbours. 

* So called from their being stitched in blue pare?' 



LETTER XL 

LONDOy. NOVEMBER tgth. 

I WAS in Rosemary Lane yesterday, in other 
words at Rag Fair. They take the liberty of ad- 
dressing every one that passes ; and not unfrequent- 
ly come into the street, take you by the arm and 
lead you, half forcibly, into their shops. Those 
who are most ck'ver, that is, most troublesome to 
passengers, are called barkers. I was accosted not 
less than fifteen times, in passing through Rosemary 
Lane. Telling one I was in no want of o/dclothes^ 
" Then," said he, as though he thought I meant to 
be witty, " you have a %vardrobe to dispose of.'''' I 
asked another, what he saw in my appearance which 
led him to suspe6l I wanted to purchase old 
clothes? " O," said he, "^we don't judge by ap- 
pearances here ; maby a man comes into Rosemary 
Lane to change his dress : some return better, but 
most, worse dressed." A third asked me to walk 
into his shop, if it was only to see an assortment, 
which, for variety, was not to be equalled in 'Lon- 
don. Another of the trade, who was standing by, 
observed, he was sure I could not ask for an article 



[ 68 ] 

which he could not produce. After thinking a 
moment what would be least likely in New England 
to find its way to Rag Fair, I asked for a pair of 
Cape Codtrowsers. '' Ah," said the other, " you 
never knew a Cape Cod man to sell his trowsers." 
I then asked the other, " How he happened to 
know so much of me ?" — "Why, there is not a 
man in Rosemary Lane, who does riot know, you 
came from New England." "• They must be ex- 
tremely cle^er^ in their way, to distinguish so quick- 
ly, those who speak the same language, have the 
same complexion, and dress like you. " "*' It looks a 
litde like instinft, to be sure, but the people in this 
business are, perhaps, the most clever of any in the 
world." " Then the history of Rag Fair must be 
very entertaining, and would much assist one in 
learning a little of low life ?" " Why yes, it is an 
extensive school, the stock exchange aftbrds nothing 
equal to it, whether you wish to overreach your fel- 
low, or to become acquainted with the sad vicissi- 
tudes to which trade is liable. Here are bankrupt- 
cies, sometimes, not less unexpe6lecl, than those 
which happen at the Royal Exchange : and the 
bankrupt as frequently rises again in sudden impor- 



* Cle-cer, in New England, means honest> conscientious : but we do not use 
the word as defined in the didtionsries. Nor is it used hereexadlly in its prop- 
er swise : a very clevef fellow, nobody will trust. 



[ 69 ] 

tance, to the surprise of tlie whole Fair." "You 
must have an abundance of anecdotes rcspe^ling 
the k?iowmg ones and the fiat^^ of those who have 
triumphed over simplicity, and of those who have 
come to London in a waggon.* Pray give us an in- 
stance how far a knowing one is capable of outwit- 
ting a man of common caution." " Why, there is 
a story sometimes mentioned, at the Fair, that Sir 
Matthew Hale, in passing through Rosemary Lane, 
was made prize of by a shopmaji, who, from Sir 
Matthew's slovenly appearJmcef and threadbare 
coat, thought him a good speculation. The shop- 
man led him by the arm up stairs into a dark room, 
and told him he was resolved to sell him a new coat, 
for his was no longer decent. Sir Matthew submit- 
ted to try on several coats, but insisted no one 
would fit him,^nd at length was going away with- 
out purchasing, when the clothesman said he had 
one more whicii he was sure would fit him, and 
brought one which Sir Matthew said fitted him as 
well as his old one, the difference between which 
being paid. Sir Matthew went away." " Well, where 
is the wit of all this ?" " Why, Sir Matthew wore 
the same coat out that he wore in. " ' ' But this is an 

* A waggon load of fools ai-e said to come to London every day . 

tit is hardly necessary to mention the anecdote of Sir Matthew's being tak- 
en up by a press gang and carried on boai'd a tender, whence he was obliged to 
■vv-rite to the Secretary of the Navy, before he was liberated. 



[ 70 ] 

old story, anct its authenticity rather doubtful : tell 
us one that happened lately." " I can give you an 
instance which lately occurred within my own no- 
tice, of a man who in broad day light bought his old 
hat twice for a new one. " ' ' How was that done ?" 
" The Jew went on board a ship just arrived, and pur- 
chased, among other things, an old hat ; but it being 
only weatherworn, he soon put a new gloss on it, 
and within a day or two, carried it with several oth- 
ers on board the ship, and sold it to the same man of 
whom he bought \i,for it fitted him exactly. Soon 
after, the polish wearing off discovered the old hat. 
In due time the Jew went on board again, and after 
receiving very meekly all the abuse which was of- 
fered, purchased the hat : fortunately it had a very 
broad brim ; h,e cut it smaller, put it into another 
shape, gave it a new gloss, and fitted it a second 
time on the same head." 

Just as he finished this, a boy, in appearance not 
more than ten years of age, passed by, with as many 
old clothes slung over his back, as he could carry. 
" Do you see that little Jew?" said the man, "by 
the time he is twenty he will be the envy of every 
body. He did an exploit last week which will not 
soon be forgotten. The servants of a gentleman 
at the west end of tha town had sold a quantity of 
their master's cast off clothes to a certain Jew with 



[ 71 ] 

whom that boy was acquainted. The purchase 
coming to his knowledge, he bought them of his 
friend, and the next morning with the clothes slung 
over his back he proceeded to the gentleman's 
house, and pacing to and fro before the door, began 
to bawl ' Mr. 's old clothes to sell. ' The ser- 
vants hearing their master's name repeated, came to 
the door, and after discovering the Jew's design, 
found it expedient to buy them back at his own 
price." *' Aye, there was some wit in this ; but any 
one in the trade might have new glossed an old hat, 
or cut a broad brim narrower." " No," said he, 
" though it is very easy to overreach the same man 
twice, yet to deceive him twice in the same article, 
belongs only to Rag Fair. " 

"Pray, do yourselves never buy bad bargains, and 
do you know just how long a coat has been worn ?" 
*'Yes, we can generally tell within an hour; and 
not only how long worn, but the style of life of the 
wearer. This coat was an au6lionecr's, who was 
left handed ; you see, though apparently a new coat 
it is quite threadbare under the left arm : wlien worn 
most at the back, that is the mark of a gentleman ; 
if at the left elbow and at the right cuff, of an author ; 
if at the shoulder, of a lounger ; if at the pockets, 
it is a sign of a merchant, stockjobber or attorney." 
"How do you judge of small clothes?" "We 



[ 72 ] 

can speak more positively to them : the professioji is 
generally found under the hip ; and if they had no 
profession, it is easily ascertained whether they were 
sedate or restless, whether their gait was long or 
short. Here was a poor fellow who led a very un- 
happy life : see, his breeches are worn equally on 
both knees, in the seat, and behind, and are nearly 
threadbare, though they could not have been worn 
more than three ^veeks. Here was one who had the 
gout to a cruel degree." — " But," said I, "can you 
conscientiously sell these clothes for new, could you 
find a purchaser ? They would be sent back to Rag 
Fair again, the next day." " And why," said he, 
* ' should this be the only honest trade in London : 
In these times a poor man>cannot be honest." 

Adieu. 



LETTER XII. 



LONDON, NOVSMBER zjik. 

1 HE observations which will escape me in 
this letter will necessarily be invidious ; yet, as 
they will conduce to a knowledge of the English sys- 
tem, I shall not forbear them. 

I seem to have found a new religion, so different 
is its aspe<Sl, in this country, from that which it dis- 
covers in New England. 

Whenever religion degenerates into ceremony, 
or becomes the crooked way of worldly ambition, 
it becomes a matter of mockery with the profane, 
and of indifference with the more serious. The 
priest, who instead of supporting the Cross of 
Christ, thinks it sufficient to wear it on the back of 
his robe ;* or he, who in the moment of a *' nolo 
episcopari^^ accepts a bishoprick, must expe6l to 
meet with that ridicule to which he is justly 
liable. Whip me those delicate saints, who have 
exchanged the coarse garments of the apostles for 

• The catholic priests, in time of divine service, wear the figure of the cross on 
the back of their gowns : in spite of the sandtity of the place, I could not but 
smile when I first saw this singular obedience to one of Christ's most positive pre- 
cepts. 



[ 74 ] 

the courtly dress of the pharisees : ^Vho, instead 
of challenging credit to the gospel, by humility, 
moderation and meekness, resort to the pen. Christ 
never designed his religion should be supported by 
Aristotle's Logic, nor Euclid's Elements. The 
gospel is an appeal to the heart ; its operation, on 
the life ; and its san6lion, at the hour of death. 
All the arguments, which depth of research, and 
acuteness of mind can bring, weigh not against 
my disbelief, if he who brings them inhabits a pal- 
ace, and gains another tythe by my conversion. Yet 
I may be in an error : our Saviour, you know, will, 
at his second coming, be preceded by the sound 
of the trumpet, and will come in great glory : now 
to whom should he come, if not to the heads of his 
church ? consequently, his reception ought to be 
equal to the occasion. He tells you, his followers 
shall inherit the earth ; hence, magnificent state will 
be evidence of heirship. But then St. Peter, when 
he delivered the key to the Bishop of Rome, ought 
to have told this, which would have secured his Ho- 
liness, the college of Cardinals, and the Lords spirit- 
ual from much profane ridicule. 

The christian religion in England might induce a 
stranger to believe it was a political institution j that 
its duties were defined by a6l of parliament ; and that 
the clergy were officers who were paid for carrying 



C 75 3 

the statute into efFe6l. No matter whether there be 
an audience or not, the clergyman feels it his duty to 
perform all the sacred offices ; and it is still, " dearly 
beloved brethren," though not a dearly beloved 
brother be present. I was lately in a church in 
Cheapside, in which there were but eleven persons, 
except some little charity boys who sung. Most of 
these eleven, I suspe6l, were strangers like myself. 
However, I ought to observe it was midsummer, and 
that the parishioners were probably gone into the 
country to take their pleasure. 

The Church of England is extremely jealous of 
her dissenting brethren : she ought to be so. The 
ease, pomp and magnificence of the one suffers a si- 
lent reprimand from the comparitive simplicity and 
assiduity of the other. Hence, the legislature should 
endeavour, as much as possible, to divest religion of 
all its asperities ; and conne6l it with worldly pleas- 
ure. But to render it a vital principle, they should, 
observing a little decency, make it consistent with, 
and a handmaid of, worldly interest. Under such 
advantages the Church of England must flourish, 
whatever may become of the Church of Christ. 

That the legislature has partially adopted this 
plan, you will perceive by turning to Blackstone's 
Commentaries, Book 4. Chap. 4. Sec. 9. He ob- 
serves, " The keeping one day in seven holy as a 



[ 76 ] 

time of relaxation and refreshment, as well as for 
public worship, is of admirable service to a state, 
considered merely as a civil institution, in that it 
correfts the manners of the lower classes, which 
would otherwise degenerate into a sordid ferocity 
and savage selfishness* of spirit.'''' Then he quotes 
1st Charles 1st. Chap. 1. " No persons shall as- 
semble out of their own parishes for any sport what- 
ever, upon this day (Sunday) : nor in their parishes 
shall use any bull or bear baiting, interludes, plays, 
or other unlawful exercises or pastimes, on pain that 
every offender shall pay — three shillings arid four 
pence to the poor. This statute does not prohibit, 
but rather implicitly allows any innocent recreation or 
amusement within their respective parishes, even on 
the Lord's day, after divine service is over." 

The obje6l of this statute was, I suspe6l, to turn 
the sabbath into a holiday, and thereby divert the 
lower classes from the principles of the dissenters ; 
especially as there is no accommodation for poor peo- 
ple in the established churches. 

No wonder the christian religion shews so fair an 
aspect in the United States, for it does not stand 
there on the stilts of politics. No establishment, no 
thirty nine articles, no assistance from statute law, 
and very little legislative interference impede its 

* Savages are the least selfish of all men. 



[ 77 ] 

course. Indeed, Rhode-Island and some few other 
states do not mention the christian religion in their 
constitutions. I had occasion, some time since, to 
mention this to an English gentleman, and he seri- 
ously asked, " If there were any churches in those 
states ?" That the christian religion in Europe has 
so successfully withstood the oppressions which it 
has undergone from its dear friends and most hum- 
ble followers, ought to excite the surprise of every 
one ; and affords it, in my opinion, a more respect- 
able sandlion, than it receives from having resisted 
the all-unhinging and cool blooded Hume, the inde- 
fatigable and diversified assaults of Voltaire, or the 
more insidious and undermining attempts of Gib- 
bon. These great men, with many others, have 
pecked a little cement from the edifice, but have not 
injured the building : they have hurled a pebble at 
the citadel, but have not effected a breach. 

I think it well worthy of notice, that the gospel, 
when first asserted, had nothing to fear but the tem- 
poral power ; and flourished in spite of the civil au- 
thority : — and since the time of Constantine, it has 
had nothing to fear but the temporal power of its 
friends^ and still flourishes notwithstanding : a fair 
proof, if left entirely to its own influence on the 
heart, it is capable of going alone, and stands in no 
need of a great cradle and thirty nine leading strings. 



[ 78 ] 

In passing through Smithfield, the other morning, 
I could not cease blessing the spirit of toleration 
which, in favour of humanity, has surpassed the 
most sanguine expe6lations of the wisest men of 
former days. But their inferences were drawn from 
persecution, rather than from any experience of tole- 
ration : they reasoned that, because persecution did 
not harmonise, unlimited toleration* would only 
induce mutual war. It has remained for us to prove 
that it was entirely owing to the temporal power, that 
religion has discovered such an unaccommodating 
spirit. For the honour of the United States let me 
observe, that the spirit of toleration is so transcend- 
antly liberal, the whole of the five hundred and fifty 
six religions might accord together in any of our cit- 
ies — ^Notwithstanding New England once made the 
gross blunder to mistake Quakers for scape goats 
and pascal lambs — So operative is the Federal Con- 
stitution on a species of derangement which once 
knew no remedy but bulls, ropes and faggots. 
There, the christian may worship his three Gods, 
the deist his one, and the atheist, if he please, the 
fortuitous concurrence of atoms : the Catholic may 



• Our country has proved the contrary : the multitudes of religions in the Unit- 
ed States have discovered a new and godlike trait in human charadler: far from 
imbitterlng the dispositions of the various sedts, difference of sentiment excites 
to mutual tolerance, and virtuous emulation, whether the way to heaven lies 
through the cold batlv or penance and stripes, or faith, or trorks. 



[ 79 ] 

quietly enjoy his purgatory, his seven sacraments 
and transubstantiation : the Mahometan may pub- 
lickly assert his koran to be of greater authority 
than the Bible, and prove his position from the 
pulpit of his mosch. The Persian may adore the 
sun, the heathen his idols, and the Indian the devil. 
While the Manichean, who is not content with one 
Great First Cause, is allowed two. 

A philosopher cannot contemplate this pidlure, 
without rapture : for he is necessarily carried back 
to those days of religious acconunodation, when the 
conquerors of the world plundered the gods of their 
enemies, not to destroy them, but to give them a 
more respedlable station at Rome. But what would 
be his surprise, when informed that all the individu- 
als of these five hundred and fifty six se6\:s are eligi- 
ble, not only to all the subordinate offices of govern- 
ment, but even to the presidency ! The Federal 
Constitution discovers this spirit : some of the State 
Governments are not quite so liberal. The Constt- 
tution of Massachusetts requires a religious test^ 
wbicb answers no purpose but that of making a few 
hypocrites. 

The good sense of the clergy of the United States 
will lead them to favour the most unlimited tolera- 
tion, for if there ever should be an Established 
Church, the great body of the clergy >vould sink in 



[ 80 ] 

the degree, in which a few of the most intriguing and 
ambitious were exalted : this is the case in England, 
where thousands of poor devils are bound to a sys- 
tem which renders them the contempt of their own 
body. 

This letter is already sufficiently lengthy, there- 
fore. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XIII. 

LONDON, DECEMBER i6th. 

1 HAVE at present, only a few street observa- 
tions to make, so shall fill up this letter with any 
matter that occurs. 

Nothing has afforded me more amusement, than 
the exhibition of a certain class of Englishmen : 
the description to which I allude is composed, of 
those who have unexpectedly come to wealth, some 
few of those who are earnesdy in pursuit of fortune, 
and whose affairs are flourishing, but principally of 
those who have spent their fortunes, and yet are re- 
solved to support appearances. 

These charadlers sport themselves before the 
public on all occasions, and are as tenacious of the 
gentleman, as though they expected every passen- 
ger was about to dispute the point with them. 
When they appear in public they do not seem to 
observe any body, yet they indirectly tell you, 
themselves are the only persons in the street : still 
there is a certain something hanging about their 
demeanour, which courts the attention of the pas- 
sengers with a " Look at m^." 

M 



[ 82 ] 

Many of them appear to be in a pillory, owing to 
the quantity of cravat, and to the two wings of their 
shirt coUar, for fear of discomposing which, they 
are obhged to turn their whole bodies with their 
heads : hence, if they wish to view the whole hor- 
izon, they are obliged to make several right angles. 
One eye would answer all the purposes of these 
gentlemen, if it was fixed in their foreheads. 

Of the various expedients of raising money to 
which Mr. Pitt has resorted, that of laying a tax on 
strutting would not have been the most unpopular. 
For the generality of the English, who attach any 
consequence to themselves, are addi6led to this 
bombast manner of walking. 

Some of these gentlemen, you might imagine, 
must meet with the saddest accidents : for they 
resolutely proceed straigiit forward, in defiance of 
all opposition, whether from wheelbarrows, posts, 
or from those of their own description, who are 
approaching with an air equally determined. Yet, 
I know uot how it happens, they meet with few 
serious misfortunes, though I have seen a collision 
between two, when it was necessary for each, be- 
fore they could pass, to make an angle, of forty 
five degrees. But they are liable to another acci- 
dent, much more serious than a flesh wound. In 
the rainy seasons, the square stones on the way 
side sometimes become loose,, and mischievous 



[ 83 ] 

boys, by removing the earth from under them, bal- 
ance them on props, and form what they inhuman- 
ly call beau traps. Now a man who never looks 
lower than horizontally is very likely to fall into 
these insidious snares. 

Why should the generality of mankind differ so 
much in their demeanour ? The scholar, the sol- 
dier and the sailor, with some others, have profes- 
sional peculiarities : but the great body of the 
people in a free country ought to discover that in- 
genuous carriage which bespeaks a conscious dig- 
nity, equally distant from insolence or servility. 
It is scarcely expelled, in England, that a poor man 
should have the principle of fixed virtue ; and if 
one in authority neglects the opportunity of robbing 
tlic public, that is accounted a rare effort of virtue, 
and worthy of a monument : on the other hand, if 
one of the lowest class should by mistake receive 
a guinea in the dark, instead of a shilling, and re- 
turn it the next morning, it is matter for the public 
papers. Carere vino, habetur pro liirtute. 

Those of the lowest class, both men and women, 
discover a careless, undefined, abandoned carriage, 
which marks their consciousness of being little bet- 
ter than outlaws from the community. Yet they 
are far from being destitute of generous feehngs, 
though in appearance, they have not even the out- 
side of humanity. 



[ 84 ] 

The character of the Enghsh is the most com- 
plex of any in Europe. I shall in some future letter 
take occasion to inquire into the cause of this, oth- 
erwise one is in danger of knowing this people only 
by halves. Part of their character might induce 
you to imagine them a feeble, inefficient, secon- 
dary race of men : but you would be greatly mista- 
ken ; the English are never greater, than on those 
occasions when most men would despair. They 
are restless under uncertainty, fearful from contin- 
gency, undone from anticipation : but mark out the 
time when, with its duration, and the place where ; 
let the sum total of what they are required to endure, 
be precisely calculated ; conne6l these circumstanc- 
es with the honour of Old England, and they are 
equal to all occasions. They submit to phantoms of 
their own creation, but can bear real misfortune 
with complacency. 

I have imagined, I know not with what degree 
of truth, that the English, more than any other peo- 
ple, require some obje*5l of attention, without which 
they seem to stagnate. The Spaniard, if he have 
nothing to do, will swing in his hammock until he 
is weary, and will after that swing himself to rest. 
The Dutchman will sit in a happy vacancy until 
some avocation rouses him. The Frenchman is 
in no hurry to force himself on opportunity, but is 
ready to embrace it when offered ; and in the mean 



C 85 ] 

time is contented to give himself up to levity. 
Not so the Englishman ; his mind preys on itself 
in that state of calmness, which to some is the most 
perfect moment of beatitude. That happy lan- 
guor, which is the repose of the soul, sinks his 
heart to despondency. Wake him to a6livity, ag- 
itate him^ rouse him even to desperation ; but do 
not expe6l to soothe him with the happy leisure, or 
monotonous panegyric of the blessed. — Otherwise, 
how can you account for it, that a man, who, from 
a humble situation and humbler prospe6ls, should 
raise himself to great fortune, and to the proudest 
name of all his contemporaries, who discovered a 
readiness of expediency in times of the utmost dif- 
ficulty, which propped, restored, and established 
a tottering empire, should, after retiring with all 
which wealth and honour could confer, hang him- 
self in the prime of life ? — Such a man was Robert 
Lord Clive. 

But this is an extreme case, and ought not to be 
extended beyond an individual illustration, like 
that of the Roman, in the reign of Nero, who came 
to a resolution to starve himself, and persisted in 
his design, notwithstanding the urgent request of 
Nero to the contrary, with whom he was on terms 
of intimacy : for Nero, tender of his own reputation, 
observed, " His enemies would attribute the secret 
cause of his friend's death to himself." 



[ 86 3 

The entire history of this people proves them ai 
singular compound of strength and weakness. 
They are utterly incapable of enjoying what their 
valour has so frequently accomplished, and are 
ignorant of exerting their strength to any personal 
advantage. If main force only be requisite, they 
can wield the club of Theseus, and like him bend the 
stoutest tree of the forest, but they cannot, like The- 
seus, follo\v Ariadne's clue through the labyrinth. 
After having conquered their enemies by force of 
arms, they have generally in their turn been con- 
quered by force of treaty. But nothing more 
strongly marks the domestic chara^er of this peo- 
ple, than their famous condu6l at the close of the 
revolution of 1688. They had then a fine oppor- 
tunity of making the best possible bargain for them- 
selves with their rulers : but by a most stupid 
contrail, they conveyed themselves and poster- 
ity to the House of Hanover. Mr. Burke advanced 
seriously the same thing, which not a littie surpris- 
ed the nation, who, for more than a century, had 
fancied themselves free. I believe it is not known 
in England, that De Lolme, who wrote without ref- 
erence to party, has established the same point in 
his Essay on the constitution of England. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XIV. 



LONDON, DECEMBER 26th. 



1 HE English, who visit the United States, 
complain of the want of attention of those who wait 
on them. For my part, I am disposed to complain 
from a very different reason. I am even incommod- 
ed, and not unfrequently disconcerted, to be so offi- 
ciously attended, as one is obliged to be by the En- 
glish servants. I had refledled, when in the United 
States, that the lowest classes of the English ought 
naturally to be the most insolent, knotty, and unac- 
commodating of all beings. Enjoying under the 
constitution the same degree of liberty with the 
higher orders, and yet, in reality, retained eternally 
in a situation from which no docihty of nature, and 
no impulse of ambition, can redeem them, they 
ought to possess the ferocity of die savage, without 
his generous sentiments. 

Matthew Prior is the only Englishman that 1 rec- 
olle6l, who ever burst the cearments of servitude, 
and rose to eminence. This instance is not a fair 
one : Prior was a vine which must forever have run 
on the ground, had he not met witli a great man 



[ 88 ] 

around whom to twine. Prior discovered after- 
wards, it is true, abilities of the first order ; but had 
not Prior been a poet, and fond of Horace, his abili- 
ties would only have rendered him a worse servant. 

It was thought a wonderful occurrence that, Philip 
York should become Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. 
Yet Philip York had in tlie early part of his life as 
great advantages as the sons of noblemen usually en- 
joy. What would an Englishman say, were he 
told, the speaker of the House of Representatives of 
the United States was born in Scotland, and not 
many years since, sold himself for his passage, and 
redeemed himself by manual labour ? 

What do you imagine is the tye which restrains 
the English servants in this ready servility to their 
masters ? You observe I use the terms, servants and 
masters: a servant is not offended if you ask him, 
" Where his master is ?" It is but a day or two 
since a brave fellow of forty told me if I would wait 
a moment, his master would be at home : presendy 
a young man appeared. " That," said he, " is my 
master.'^* Should one ask a person in the United 
States, *' Where his master was ?" he would doubt- 
less meet with a rough reply : for in truth, there are 
no such characters in the United States as masters 
and servants. I will now tell you the reason why 
the English make such excellent servants. They 



[ 89 ] 

have three things before their eyes, servitude for 
life, Botany Bay and the gallows. Servitude they 
most commonly esteem the least of the three evils. 
But servitude has its terrors : for, if their masters 
dismiss them without a charafter, they are undone. 
Their habits and education, or rather want of edu- 
cation, rendering them useless, they are forced to en- 
ter the lowest class of that great body of men, who 
live at the public expense in England. 

Yet the English complain of their servants, and 
think them the most worthless fellows on earth. So 
do I — But if they had to deal with the generality of 
our servants, they would soon change their tone, or 
what is more likely, change places with them. 

Voltaire says the vulgar in England, less than in 
any other country in the world, fashion their man- 
ners after those of the nobility. This ought to ex- 
cite a smile : should one of the common people 
here endeavour to imitate a nobleman, his impu- 
dence would either mark him for an idiot, or ex- 
clude him from all employment. 

The servants in England are not exactly what 
they ought to be : where the fathers and sons, for 
many generations, are likely to be servants during 
their lives, it is of great consequence they should 
possess as little as possible, either of the dress, 
manners, form or feelings of men. They should be 



[ 90 ] 

bred in the most profound ignorance, and they 
should be taught from their infancy to consider 
themselves a distindl species. To impress this 
more deeply, they should be disfigured as much as 
might be consistent with their usefulness : both of 
their ears might be spared ; so might their noses. 
It might injure their healths to paint them, but it 
is a pity that a certain dyestuff could not be invent- 
ed, through which perspiration might pass. In short, 
they should in all respe6ls be treated like beasts of 
burden ; though I hardly go so far as Cato the Cen- 
sor, who advises, when they are grown old and in- 
firm, to sell them. 

The surprising difference which obtains between 
the English servants and ours, is not entirely owing 
to the influence which the Federal Constitution has 
on their characters. The English servant is chain- 
ed to servitude ; in many respects, little removed 
from helotism. He has no imagination, no ambi- 
tion ; a holiday or a debauch bounds his hopes, and 
consummates his wishes. In the United States, on 
the contrary, a servant's imagination is ever on the 
wing ; he calculates even to a day, and that day is 
not distant, when he shall be independent as the 
person whom he serves. He indulges the most 
flattering prospects, feels himself already a freeman, 
and wanders, in romance, through scenes of future 



[ 91 ] 

life, or reposes from labour in the cool of his own 
shade. As he approaches personal independence, 
he expe6ls the deference of his master, and of his 
fellow citizens, while his master, foreseeing how 
soon his servant may be his equal, is disposed to fa- 
cilitate the approaching equality. Hence, he discov- 
ers nothing of that humble, debasing demeanour, 
which is so apparent in the English servant. 

I confess, the majestic carriage of our servants 
would revolt the feelings of one accustomed to trav- 
el the Bath road ; for he might be in danger of 
starving, before he could learn the language of the 
country. 

Adieu, 



LETTER XV. 



LONDON, JANUARY xith, 1803. 

1 WAS at the theatre, last evening, where 
I saw their Majesties, with three of the princesses. 
Nunc sew quid sint Rex et Regina. They all be- 
haved with great deference to the spe^lators : the 
queen, particularly, seemed happy. We, half civil- 
ized folks in the United States, can form no concep- 
tion of the solemn pomp, the dignified importance 
and sacred reverence, which append to these awful 
exhibitions of royal personage. The cold feelings 
of our citizens, on these happy occasions, would 
look like pointed disaffe6\ion. 

The box, in which their Majesties sat, was fitted 
up on purpose, while the trappings carried you back 
to the style of Persian monarchs. How ^vould an 
English courtier have laughed to have seen the late 
President and lady, without a guard, without any at- 
tendance, without any peculiarity to distinguish 
them from the other citizens, take their seats in the 
theatre at Boston I 

Soon as their Majesties appeared in the front of 
their box, a tumult of applause commenced, which, 

/ 



[ 93 ] 

had it been cordial, must have been really pleasing : 
but as all this was nothing to me, I sunk into a reve- 
rie, and thought of Timagoras the Athenian. After 
the noise was over, their Majesties sat down, and 
the favourite song of" God save great George our 
King'''** commenced : this being sung several 
times by the whole posse theatri finished the royal 
reception. When the entertainments were con- 
cluded, the same solemnities finished the evening. 

The king is a fine, healthy looking man, and is 
good^ if he do not die of apoplexy, for fifteen or 
twenty years^ as the life insurers say. He wore a 
sort of half wig, so I could not discover whether 
hard times had hastened his hair prematurely to 
gray. Poor man, I could not but pity him, for it is 
not altogether his fault, that he has fallen into so 
many bad hands. He made constant use of an op- 
era glass ; it is a royal custom, I suppose, to see 
with artificial eyes. 

If the countenance be allowed to indicate the dis- 
position, his Majesty has a very good heart ; and he 
has more intellect, than you would judge from his 
countenance on the coin. On the whole, I contem- 
plated him with a considerable degree of compla- 
cency : for though kingly government might original- 

* Not so the generous Gathmor : he retired when his praise was sung. " The 
voice of Fonar rose in praise of Gathmor, son of Larthon : but Gathmor did not 
hear his praise. He lay at the roar of a stream." Ossian. Temoia. 



[ 94 ] 

ly have been elective, and all hereditary govern- 
ment is founded, dire^lly, or indire6lly, in usurpa- 
tion ; yet, where a people acquiesce, this usurpation, 
at least during the acquiescence, receives a popular 
sanation. 

The three princesses were to me obje6ls of com- 
miseration. I viewed them as the wretched vic- 
tims of political expediency. ' ' Born under the ago- 
nies of self denial and renounced desire,"*' amidst 
the mockery of a court, they endure the penance of 
a nunnery. The virgin's innocence is dear to her, 
only with reference to opinion, and she preserves it 
only in hope of bestowing it on the proper obje6l. 
But in what estimation can a woman hold her chas- 
tity, if she is condemned to carry it with her to the 
grave ? Or how can that woman be happy, who feels 
herself alone in the midst of millions, not one of 
whom regards her more than a piece of state furni- 
ture ? The heart must have some obje^ on which 
to repose, or it will prey on itself : the trappings of 
royalty, the idiotical applause of thousands, and the 
elevation of momentary pride, heightened by com- 
parison, leave but transient impressions, which lose 
their importance with every recurrence. In such a 
miserable state there is not even play for a woman's 
vanity : for she is above the temptation to be vain : 

* Lavater's Aphorisms. 



[ 95 ] 

nor can she have any desire to please, for a withered 

« 
heart knows no pleasure. 

Behind their Majesties and the princesses stood 
certain ladies and gentlemen " in waiting.'''' I ob- 
served them standing a very considerable time, and 
thinking it rather singular, I asked the person who 
sat next to me, " Why they did not sit down ?" for 
they had now been standing two hours. He smiled 
at my ignorance, and told me it was etiquette. 
Those who stood behind their Majesties were 
Earls : I know not what may be the sentiments or 
feelings of Earls, but of this I am sure, there is not 
an earldom in England, which could tempt me to 
stand two hours* behind their Majesties' chairs. 

At the close of the entertainment, the royal family 
were escorted home, under a 'uery strong guards 
•with drawn cutlasses. 

After witnessing all this etiquette, and solemn cer- 
emony, which certainly was well calculated to as- 
tonish weak minds, I could not help reverting to our 
own country, and figuring to myself George Wash- 
ington, after his return to private life, sitting as 
foreman of a country jury : or to give a stronger 
contrast to European mummery, I might mention 
the late President Adams, who, at a conflagration in 



• The fadl is, the gentlemen in waiting, stand four hours, or during the whole 
entertainment : the ladies are relieved every two hours. 



[ 96 ] 

Philadelphia, stood two hours handing buckets of 
water. 

Certainly, no man can contemplate with indiffer- 
ence the chief magistrate of six millions of people, 
dispari genere^ alius, alio more "ji'uentes,^ mixing 
like a plebeian witb plebeians, and feeling more se- 
cure in the midst of his fellow citizens, than if he 
were guarded with a legion of cavalry. Would 
not Mr. Jefferson be mortified if Congress should 
vote him a guard ? Would he not say, " I never 
feel more secure, than when surrounded with my 
fellow citizens : have I lost their confidence that 
personal protedlion is thought necessary ?" 

I should love to dwell on this subjeft, but it 
might appear invidious. 

Adieu. 

• Sallust. 



LETTER XVI. 



LONDONj JANUARi' 30th, 

A ou are quite voluminous in your ques- 
tions ; but they are all interesting, as well to myself, 
as to you. The most important, "Whether the 
Constitution of the United States appears, at this 
distance, more or less capable of supporting itself on 
its own inherent strength," demands an entire letter ; 
and to satisfy you, a more laboured one than I can 
at present write : therefore, permit me to echo back 
the sentiments of yours. 

Literature cannot be expelled, at present, to flour- 
ish in the United States, so luxuriantly, as it will in 
a few years. The useful naturally precedes the or- 
namental : cottages were built long before the 
Temple of the Muses. The equality of condition In 
the United States, together with the excellent policy 
of dividing estates equally among all the children, 
obliges the citizens to become the fabricators of 
their own fortunes. Either agriculture or com- 
merce ensures the decencies of life to industry or en- 
terprise : and the young man, whose talents might 
have ranked him high on the hill of science, scarce- 
o 



[ 98 ] 

ly hesitates, whether to prefer a habitation on the 
fertile banks of the Mississippi, to a more elevated 
seat on Parnassus. Hence, you find many more 
men of talent, not to say genius, than scholars. We 
have a few passable scholars, but not one of them 
happens to be a man of genius ; and we have many 
citizens of first rate ability, but none of them are 
scholars. The mere scholar can never claim more' 
than the merit of scholarship ; the man of genius, 
for the reason just stated, is obliged in the early part 
of life, to negle6l his scholarship for worldly pur- 
suits, and by the time he is in easy circumstances, 
it is too late to become a scholar. 

Had D***** P****** L****** or J***** pre- 
ferred the society of the Muses to the courts of law, 
or the practice of physic, the banks of the Thames 
had as frequently echoed their labours, as the banks 
of the Ohio resound with the periods of Burke, the 
dignified narrative of Robertson, or the more stately 
tenor of Gibbon : while England, though she could 
not boast of them as subjeQs, would assert her 
claim to them as authors. It is really a loss to the 
community, that such men, capable of attaining to 
the highest style of literature, and who might have 
produced new truths, or destroyed san6lioned er- 
ror, should suffer their abilities to evaporate with 
the fleeting occun^ences which give rise to their 



[ 99 ] 

exertions. Those whom God has indued with su- 
perior powers, owe it to patriotism, to their fellow 
citizens, to posterity, to leave behind them some 
monument, more dural^le than a tombstone, and 
more interesting than " Here lies the body." What 
though the architecture of their minds indicate dif- 
ferent orders ! In the collision of contending princi- 
ples the brightest sparks are elicited. What though 
the world can scarcely contain the conflicting parties 
when living, the same monument becomes their me- 
morial when dead ! Rousseau and Voltaire met at 
last in the Pantheon : while Butler and Milton may 
shake hands in Westminster Abbey. Nor is the 
benefit to posterity less on this account. The la- 
bours of Burke and Paine find a place on the same 
shelf; nor do the bickerings of Sailust and Cice- 
ro derogate from their individual merit. Nature 
has wisely ordained, that amidst the vicissitudes 
of human life, the human mind should partake 
of that vicissitude : otherwise, if eternal principles 
were adopted, mankind A\'ould become too deeply ~, 
rooted in habit, would be rendered incapable of pur- 
suing the expedient, and would forever conflict with - 
emergency, accident and novel circumstance. A 
few great moral principles are, and ever have been, 
acknowledged : but the minor morals and all diose 
principles founded in convenience, vary with time, 



[' 100 ] 

are subje6l to revolution, and obedient to contin- 
gency. 

When the sciences are cultivated in the United 
States, those branches which relate to civil polity, or 
to speak more generally, all that which is connected 
with, or relative to man, will be treated in a man- 
ner, which must shock the feelings of all Europe, and 
oppose the principles of all ages. From the Stagy- 
rite, down to the no less powerful oracle of Lichfield, 
the legitimacy of those hoary sanations of establish- 
ed authority will be disputed : while the great ad- 
vantage, which the United States will afford, of ap- 
pealing to fa6ts,* and to the successful operation of 
principles which have hitherto been deemed 
impracticable, merely because they were never per- 
mitted an opportunity of trial, will challenge respe6l 
on this side of the Atlantic, and what is all-impor- 
tant, will confirm our fellow citizens in their attach- 
ment to a constitution, which seems to embrace all 
possible good, with least possible evil. 

But you must not imagine the people of England 
are more intelligent, than the people of the United 
States. It is the re\'erse ; there is much more use- 
ful information and producible common sense 
among our citizens, than among the generality of 

• " Human experience/' says Dr. Johnson, " which is constantly contradlfting, 
is the great test of tru'^h." But in Europe^ human experience has never had a fajr 
trial. 



I 101 ] 

the English. In the United States, a man's mind is 
early awakened to refle^lion and comparison. He 
feels himself one of the body politic : he takes a live- 
ly interest in the public affairs, and, probably, looks 
forward to some office in his town, county or state. 
Hence, the country people, in the United States, 
whose occupation in England would be an evidence 
of their profound ignorance, frequently surprise you 
with information, which no man would have been 
at the trouble of acquiring, had he not foreseen a 
possibility of producing it to public view. Not long 
since, I found a shoemaker reading De Lolme on 
the English constitution, while his leather was soak- 
ing in the tub. Taking it into my hand, I observed 
he had marked the following passage, which refers 
to the condudl of a popular assembly in the a6t of 
legislating. " But, as very few among them have 
previously considered the subject on which they are 
called upon to determine, very few carry along with 
them any opinion or inclination, or at least, any in- 
clination of their own, and to which tlvjy are resolv- 
ed to adhere. As, however, it is necessary at last 
to come to some resolution, the major part of them 
are determined by reasons which tb.ey would blush 
to pay any regard to, on much less serious occa- 
sions. An unusual sight, a change of the ordinary 
place of the assembly, a sudden disturbance, a ru- 



[ 102 ] 

mour, are, amidst the general want of a spirit of de- 
cision, the sufficiens ratio of the determination of the 
greatest part : and from this assemblage of separate 
wills, thus formed hastily, and without reflection, a 
general will results, which is also void of reflec- 
tion."*—" Why," said he, " Mr. De Lolme attrib- 
utes this condu6l to the Romans, and is happy to 
take occasion from such instances, to abuse the de- 
mocratic form of government : now, our govern- 
ment is much more popular than the ancient democ- 
racies, except in the particular instance he has men- 
tioned, oi direct legislation; and the temporary re- 
signing of which, into the hands of those whom we 
from time to time delegate, is not in fa6l disclaiming 
the prerogative, but legislating by proxy : so De 
Lolme's observations do not, in this respe6l, apply • 
to our democratic system." "But," added he, " I 
am not disposed to quarrel with De Lolme ; he 
could not foresee that we should spoil certain of his 
positions : his work is a fine panegyric, and de- 
serves from the English a statue." 

No, the republic of letters has not become an aris- 
tocracy in our country : knowledge seems to follow 
the law of inheritance, and is pretty equally distribu- 
ted. Thus a competent portion of learning is found 

• De Lolme on the Constitution of England^ Book ii. Chap. 5. 



[ 103 ] 

in every town ; and though Pope's famous couplet 
may be obje^led, 

A Uttle learning is a dangerous thing ; 
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring. 

Yet, like many more of his verses, they are peife6l 
nonsense. A little learning, with a 'weak head will 
often be less beneficial, than profound ignorance ; 
but even in this case, a little will be less dangerous 
than deep learning, h. man of common sense is 
never rendered a fool by a little learning. Mr. Pope 
owes his fame to his genius, not to his education. 
There is not a schoolboy now a days, who has not 
more learning than had Socrates ; yet Socrates was 
never intoxicated with the shallow draught. A man 
of great strength of mind is less likely to exercise his 
own powers with great than with moderate learning. 
No man of genius was ever fond of thumbing a dic- 
tionary, while the learned man is breaking the nut- 
shell, the other has found the kernel. The United 
States, on every emergency, have produced men 
full grown, who have acquitted themselves with all 
the propriety of a Dr. Beniley^ or a Julius Scallger ! 
I cannot better illustrate this point, than by a com- 
parison of our Congress, with the British Parlia- 
ment. There is a reason why each should have a 
preeminence over the other. The peer is born to a 
seat in the House of Lords ; or, if created, he must. 



[ 104 ] 

like Jenkinson^ be great in some way or other. 
Hence, the House of Lords must be composed of a 
few legislators of first rate ability ; and even the gen- 
erality, from education, ought to possess superior 
minds : after all, you will find many stupid fellows 
among them. However, they are not to blame, 
they could not help being born legislators. With 
respe^l to the House of Commons the same reason 
partially obtains. Many of them, like Pitt and Fox, 
were educated for the House of Commons. Some 
few, of commanding abilities and popular address, 
claim a seat in the House ; no matter who their fath- 
ers were : such was Burke, and such is Sheridan. 
Beside, the greatest, and most dangerous or useful 
of the commoners, are often created peers, and 
thereby keep up the ability and dignity of a body of 
men, which could otherwise scarcely support itself 
on a hereditary principle : for if one should look in- 
to the House of Lords, during the absence of all 
those who have been created in the present reign, he 
might forget to take off his hat. Now the probabil- 
ity is, that you will find in parliament, a few mem- 
bers of first rate powers, the generality rather above 
mediocrity, and a certain number who would puz- 
zle a predestinarian to tell how they came there. 

In the United States, we have neither these advan- 
tages nor disadvantages. The legislator is some- 



[ 105 ] 

times taken from the plough, sometimes from the 
counting-house, but more frequently from the law- 
shop. An Englishman, I know, must smile at this, 
and imagine our members would bring their profes- 
sions with them to Congress, and prove, illustrate, 
and embellish their positions from the farm yard, the 
warehouse, or the attorney's office. But it is wor- 
thy of remark, that our members of Congress have 
most of them been in business, consequently know 
more of human life, than the English peers; and 
though they may at first be deficient in forms and 
precedents, they are likely to bring more mind to 
the public service. As they are considerably ad- 
vanced in life, and have already discovered their 
abilities before they are delegated, their former agri- 
cultural, commercial and legal pursuits, coalescing, 
serve to equalise the laws, before they receive their 
san(Slion. Plus poller e multorum mgen'ia consil- 
iaque* 

These considerations give our members a decid- 
ed superiority over the English peers : I mean there 
will be more capacity in the one body, than in the 
other, notwithstanding there will ever be a few pre- 
eminent members in the House of Lords of recent 
creation. This does not apply to the House of 
Commons : for though there are many rotten bor- 

* Livy. 

P 



[ 106 ] 

oughsaiid no little ministerial influence at eledlionsj 
yet this does not proscribe any ability from the 
House, for the minister will naturally seek the man 
of greatest capacity. Hence, you find Windham, 
Laurence, Canning and others in the House, who 
would be very loath to be questioned respecting 
the Hustings. 

The happy days, which we have experienced un- 
der the constitution of the United States, have scarce- 
ly offered, since its adoption, two important occa- 
sions of calling forth the abilities of Congress. The 
question of the Judiciary gave rise to the most spir- 
ited and well contested debate which was ever wit- 
nessed in a deliberative assembly : while the digni- 
ty and moderation, with which it was conducted, 
proved the empire of reason over passion and per- 
sonality. Had such a question, a question which 
called forth the whole force of political feeling in ev- 
ery individual of the legislature, been agitated in the 
House of Commons, you might have heard Mr. Fox 
pant across the Thames ; Mr. Pitt would have for- 
gotten his usual senatorial dignity ; Dr. Laurence 
would have frothed at the mouth ; Mr. Windham, 
forgetting the point in question, would have hurled 
Greek at his opponents from the philippics of De- 
mosthenes ; and Mr. Erskine would have been car- 
ried out. 



[ 107 ] 

Not less surprised were the members of Congress, 
than their fellow citizens, at this unexpected display 
of close argument, arrayed in the most brilliant elo- 
quence. The public mind was immediately con- 
vinced, when Breckenridge spoke to his motion, 
and supported it with a force and simplicity, desti- 
tute of the least appeal to popular sentiment. But 
when Morris rose, his wild eloquence threw a mist 
before the eyes of every one, and served to keep in 
agitation, a question supposed to be settled. Yet 
Mason, \vith a steady, piercing eye, sa\v through 
the labyrinth of party coloured rhetoric, and, revert- 
ing to first principles, brought back the question to 
its former state. These great efforts in the Senate, 
roused all the ability of the House, and called forth 
faculties, which had either slept for years, or were 
not supposed to exist. The modest Hemphill, with 
the simplicity of his stSi, supported his opinion, 
with a dignity peculiar to himself; while Giles and 
Bayard, veterans in debate, knowing each other, and 
conscious of the public expe6lation, reserved them- 
selves to the last, and came prepared with a sort of 
sobriety, to the arduous conflidl. 

Adieu, 



LETTER XVII. 

LONDON, FEBRUART i8f/i. 

jlx. government which owes its greatness to 
the vicious passions, and whose stability is found- 
ed on an artificial basis, should endeavour, as much 
as possible, to substitute for real patriotism, ideal 
glory ; and should call the attention of the people 
to the consideration of what their fathers have been, 
not to what themselves are. For a ruined country, 
like a ruined woman, may support itself a certain 
time on the credit of its former reputation. 

Fortunately for England, she has many obje6\s 
to engage the affeQions of her subjects, ^^'hich 
serve the purpose of a sort of bastard patriotism. 
This bias to our country, when principle is want- 
ing, is absolutely necessarj'', otherwise the people 
will be beggared with a standing army. 

In the advantage of external attachments, England 
stands preeminent over all nations. In the first 
place, she is small in territory, in the next, she is 
an island. Such circumstances may operate on a 
people ■without their knowledge : but England has 
food for her pride, which is the strongest trait in her 



[ 109 ] ^ 

charader. It is a property of the human mind, in 
its most miserable state, to rest with a degree of 
complacency either on some object, or, if that fails, 
on some delusion. If a nation be no longer great, 
they console themselves on past greatness, if no 
longer brave, they are ready to appeal to their an- 
cestors. 

Great men, great vi6lories, magnificent public 
buildings, stupendous monuments, pompous 
equipages, nay, a long line of kings and nobles, 
secretly operate in Europe instead of greater force, 
and produce a counterfeit patriotism. I say coun- 
terfeit : for most of those, who are emphatically styl- 
ed great men, have been public burdens. Great 
victories have usually originated a second war, 
while the first originated in a spirit of plunder, or 
what more frequently happens in our days, a spirit 
of commerce. Magnificent public buildings are a 
sure mark of slavery and oppression : the pyramids 
do no honour to Egypt. Stupendous monuments 
not unfrequently rise in honour of the tyrant, and at 
the expense of slaves ; are an incentive to false am- 
bition, and perpetuate and sanction the princi- 
ple to which they were reared. Kings* and 

* Monarchy doubtless originated in the infmcy and weakness of society, when 
an able, bold, populax man was ehSed to proteit and unite the discordant interests 
of his own tribe or clan. Thus, though simple monarchy may boast an elder origin 
than republics, all /isreA/ar^i authority is founded in usurpation, and ha ccntiniieS 
Uiurpaticn.—l might easily demonstrate this, so could Lord Thurlow. 



C no ] 

nobles arc the severest libel which any people 
can suffer : they had their origin in the weakness of 
mankind, at length usurped an hereditary authority, 
and now have their continuance through the base- 
ness of mankind. And when these orders are once 
instituted, it is their constant policy to discourage 
every advance to former virtue. Said the late Cath- 
arine of Russia, " Did men better listen to the 
dictates of reason and justice, they would have no 
occasion for us or others upon thrones. I was al- 
ways fond of philosophy, and my mind has ever 
been altogether republican. This my innate love 
and regard to liberty, to be sure, forms a strange con- 
trast with my boundless power."* Good God ! if 
these are the sentiments of a despot, a woman who 
held twenty four millions of slaves in chains, what 
ought to be the feelings of freemen ! If we do not 
guard the sacred j^re with which we are entrusted, 
we shall deserve to be governed by a woman, and 
when dead, torn from our sepulchres by posterity, 
and have our dust scattered to the winds of heaven : 
There is no spark in Europe, at which to light an- 
other torch. The chains of slavery no longer clank, 
restlessness no longer brightens them, they are re- 
posing in rust. If liberty be not cherished by us, 

• Catharine wrote this in a letter to Zimmerman : her letters to Diderot and 
D'Alembert were probably in the same style. Persons like Catharine carry with 
them their own excuse. Those who tuill not be free, deserve to be slaves. 



[ 111 ] 

she will retire beyond the Apalachian mountains ; 
her cause in Europe is hopeless. The blood of 
Hampden was offered in vain, and soon after, one 
day rendered ineffectual the efforts of years. The 
labours of Sidney ended in constructive trea- 
son, and the fair prospedts of Brissot, of the Ro- 
lands and others, closed in despair. It is you, my 
countrymen, on whom all Europe is looking, most 
with indifference, a few with sympathy, but her 
kings and nobles with the eagle eye of despots^ to 
seek in your miscarriage a sanction for their own 
pri?iciples.* 

What though we have no magnificent palaces ? 
Mannius Curius lived in a cottage. What though 
we have no hereditary nobility ? " One family is as 
ancient as another."! What though the simplicity 
of our temples, unindebted to the quarry, com- 
mand no admiration from the passenger ? The pat- 
tern of humility was born in a manger. What 
though we have no marble monuments ? A rude 
pile of stones could once affeSl the heart with no 
other inscription than, Sta mator, calcas heroem. 

But to return to the English — In addition to many 
natural and adventitious causes of attachment, 
which are common to all the subje^Sts, there are oth- 

• C. p. Sumner's Eulogy oaWashington. 

t Frederic 11. Memoirs of th« House of Brandenburg. 



[ 112 ] 

ers which not less influence those who feel them- 
selves of some little weight in the democratic branch 
of the constitution. These attachments to which I 
allude, you readily perceive, are all of a political na- 
ture. This class, if they have the least knowledge 
of their own history, ought to feel elevated in refledl- 
ing that, even in the dark ages, there was sufficient 
spirit in England to give law to a king fully disposed 
to be a tyrant : and though in succeeding times, the 
people, bandied about by York and Lancaster, at 
one moment, rejoiced in a vi6lory, which had no 
popular prerogative for its object, at the next, were 
happy to escape in a general amnesty : yet under 
Richard Third there was spirit enough to overturn 
an usurpation at*the third year, though supported 
by first rate abilities and heroic valour.* If the na- 
tional spirit departed for a century, it returned to 
take vengeance for three former reigns, on a man 
who was comparatively a mild prince. But what 
ought to elate them more than all this, there was 
found, not long after, a power in the nation capable of 
dropping a fool, of excluding his posterity and estab- 
lishing a new family on the throne. This power, it 
must be confessed, was not exerted in consequence 

* I know not why the charafler of Richard the Third should be treated with 
peculiar severity. There is little or nothing with which to reproach him after he 
came to the throne. The tyranny of Richard never reached the people ; and he was 
less a villain, in order to acquire a crown, than were some of his successors after they 
had gotten one. 



[ 113 ] 

of the sovereignty* of the people of England : yet 
its exertion under any circumstances discovers 
the difference between this people and the mo- 
notonous history of other nations, where, if " By 
the grace of God" they are afflicted with a tyrant, 
or a fool, he is feared as a demon, or worshipped as 
a sage. All these historical traits have their influ- 
ence ; for an Englishman discovers there is a pow- 
er residing somewhere in the nation capable of cre- 
ating all things anew. Hence, the class of English- 
men to which I allude at present, cannot but feel a 
proud preeminence in comparing themselves with 
their neighbours. Doubtless, the extorting of 
magna charta from King John, the beheading of 
Charles the First, the dismission of James the Sec- 
ond, and the establishment of a new monarchy, are 
the finest portions of English history. A nation 
which thus knows how, either to reduce to reason, 
dismiss forever, or speak in thunder to their ill dis- 
posed or incorrigible rulers, cannot for a long time 
endure either the stork, the serpent, or the tyranny 
of ministers under a harmless king log, though there 
may not be sufficient virtue in the nation to estab- 
lish a legitimate government. For the English are 
not quite yet, like the Ottomans : nor is their em- 

• In Europe it looks like afTedlatioii or irony, to say The sovereign peoph'- 
It is so. But nothing was more usual at Rome, than for the orators ,to style a 
popular assembly the sovereign people— «/ impcfium popuU Romani itujiitasque 
cv'ner'^aretur. Cic pro Rath to- 



[ 114 ] 

pire quite like theirs, weak in proportion to its wide 
extended territory, and poor in proportion to its nat- 
ural fertility. 

If the common people, and the humblest of that 
class who are allowed the privilege of voting, feel a 
refledlive consequence in viewing their country, the 
gentry and nobility must naturally be the best pat- 
riots in the world : since the latter rise with the 
prosperity of their country, though they suffer little 
in its distress. Indeed, the nobility in all nations, 
have discovered as much love for their country, as 
the leech feels for a plethora. 

I confess, if my country had experienced the va- 
rious revolutions and modifications which England 
has undergone, and the people in every contest with 
royal authority had added to their own prerogative, 
it would be matter of proud contemplation. But 
our country has done more : instead of amending 
and modifying an indefinite and unintelligible 
constitution, and advancing and retreating in the 
maze of politics, she has, by one great effort, 
brought back the social compa6l to its first princi- 
ples, restored a small portion of humanity to its 
original respectability, and left their posterity a form 
of government which merits to be hated by kings 
and nobles. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XVIII. 



LOKDOK MARCH 7th. 



A ou inquire respefting the climate of Eng- 
land. That climate must be happy which has pro- 
duced so many great men. Yet I ^voukl not seem 
to attach too much to climate. Those climates 
most congenial to human temperature do not con- 
stantly produce the greatest men. It is reported 
in history, that the Dutch were once generous and 
noble, that the Spaniards were once brave, and 
Livy is either erroneous, or too much given to 
irony, if Italy did not once produce men. 

If the English have a single prejudice, it is cer- 
tainly not in favour of their climate. Their cari- 
caturists, who for broad humour are unrivalled, 
hit off John Bull in a cloudy day with great success. 
The weather here is of such public concern, they 
sometimes take notice of it in the newspapers. 
There are perhaps more \Aeathercocks in London, 
than in all the world beside : though it ought to be 
considered London is the scat of government. 

Among the various modes of insurance, \^'hich 
the wit of man has invented in this city, I am not a 



[ 116 ] 

little surprised, no one has ever opened an office for 
for the insurance of fair weather. All those who 
are in pursuit of pleasure or business ; all those who 
have delicate constitutions, and are liable to suffer 
from the wind being a point, or half a point variant 
from their favourite quarter ; all those who were in- 
commoded on journies, might be compensated in 
money for mental or corporeal inconvenience. 
This might appear rather ridiculous in prospeiStus ; 
but it is only an improvement on marine insurance ; 
. and is much more rational, than insurance on lives. 
I have no doubt the lawjers will improve this hint : 
it would afford rare sport at Westminster and Guild- 
hall. All the dull rogues in town would insure, for 
the author who wrote on a dull day, would recover 
special damage, if his book did not sell. All the 
ladies at the west end of the town would insure, 
though I know not what damages would be given 
for a disappointed rout. All those who frequent the 
places of public amusement, as well as the proprie- 
tors, would insure, the one for disappointment of 
pleasure, the other for disappointment of money. 

If many of the English have degenerated into a 
mongrel sort of beings, if the mane of the lion has 
given place to more ear than formerly, if a thousand 
nervous afft6lions have rendered them women with- 
out the spirit; of women, I am not disposed to attrib^ 



[ 117 ] 

ute it to the climate, which is now as good as when 
Boadicea led the van of her countrymen. Let us, 
for a moment, consider what efFe<SVs the climate of 
England produces, and then we can judge whether 
or not it be insalubrious. Where neither the excess 
of pleasure, nor the excess of labour emaciates, the 
English, both men and women, are exceedingly 
handsome. Their round ruddy countenances, be- 
speak a mellow temperature of weather, which 
neither relaxes nor contra(Sls. Surely, the climate 
of that country must be good which produces brave 
brave men and handsome women : and I think 
those gloomy affe6lions, to which so many of the 
English are subje6l, ought not to be imputed to tlie 
climate. Man must first be degenerate, before a 
west wind,* or a cloudy day, can reduce him to des- 
pondency. 

By chase their long lived fathers gain'd their food. 
Toil strung^ their nerves and purified their blood. 
But now, their sons, a puny race of men. 
Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten. 

DRYDEN. 

This is doubtless mere poetry. The English are 
more laborious now, than if they were hunters ; 
and as for their being dwindled do%vn to seventy 
years, I think it rather a bull. The English live as 
long, and bear their age as well, I believe, as any 

• In England, it is the west wind which brings hanging weather. 



[ 118 ] 

people. My washerwoman tells me she knows 
more than half a dozen between the ages of sixty- 
seven and seventy five, in her neighbourhood, who 
gain their livelihood at the washing tub. I do not 
know that they live longer or retain their faculties to 
a later period, than they do in New England ; but the 
inroad of years does not make so early nor so deep an 
impression on their faces. The climate is so tem- 
perate, both in summer and winter, that I have not 
experienced what I consider a warm or cold day. 
Hence, the pores of the body are not so frequently 
open in summer, nor so continually contracted in 
winter. When I say the English bear their age 
better than our people, I suppose those of both coun- 
tries to lead similar lives. In New England you 
rarely see the emaciated, the deformed, the ricketty, 
or the deficient : in England, you meet with them 
at every step. I have seen thousands of those mis- 
erable creatures, to whom it would have been an a6l 
of mercy to have extended a certain wise law of 
Sparta. 

Whether or not the women bear their years better 
than ours, I am not certain, they are so very loath to 
tell their ages. But of this I am sure, the dress, car- 
riage and conversation of the English women, are at 
least ten years in their favour. The contrast is re- 
markable. A young lady in this country is willing 



[ 119 ] 

to be sociable, and seems disposed to render herself 
pleasing, rather than an obje6l of indifference. 
Ours, on the contrary, are too ready to imagine they 
have done wrong, and frequendy check themselves, 
and betray a degree of guilt, when they discover they 
have unwittingly done themselves justice. The 
manners of the one render them younger in appear- 
ance, than they are ; the manners of the other antic- 
ipate their years. 

There is one description of Englishmen, on whom 
the climate must operate very unhappily : I mean 
the country gentlemen, who, residing most of their 
time on their estates, and not having a taste either 
for the elegant or more laborious pursuits of agri- 
culture, or what is still more unhappy, cold to the 
charms of literature, spend their days, insulated 
within their own barren selves : and instead of giv- 
ing their days to negotium cum dignitate, sacrifice 
their lives to a false otium cu7n dignitate. To such, 
a gloomy day is the harbinger of their evil genius. 
The sombre appearance of their aged mansions, and 
the solemn aspe6l of the scene around, render their 
solitude awful, and recal the most heavy recollec- 
tions. The spe6lres of their ancestors come in the 
clouds, and haunt the halls of their former residence : 
while the sullen stillness of the trees, except at inter- 
vals, their slowly nodding tops seem in distant mur- 



[ 120 ] 

mur to beckon them away, helps to turn the mind 
upon itself, of all situations, to most men, the most 
insupportable. They feel themselves the centre of a 
scene, from which they cannot fly : past pleasures 
are now converted to present pain, while the present 
moment, in imagination, is to last forever. 

Those of the English, who know how, think as 
much or more, than any people. Yet those who 
think most, do not always think most happily. 
Some people, at the end of a reverie, find them- 
selves in the slough of sensuality ; others think only 
to get rid of themselves, while some bring them- 
selves to the sad conclusion that it would be madness 
in them to be happy. The English, I believe, think 
less happily, than any people. They scarcely afie6t 
happiness to hide their misery. Montesquieu, you 
recollect, attributes this to their form of government, 
rather than to their climate. This merits attention. 
I will never admit that a free people,* so Montes- 
quieu termed the English, are less happy than a ty- 
rant could render them. But I can easily believe 
that, a people feeling their incapacity to enjoy those 
rights which their constitution of government ac- 
knowledges, will be unhappy in proportion to their 
sensibility : while the frequent changes of weather 
will give a sad cast to their dispositions. The great 

• Whenerer I cail th* Xnj^lhhfretj I mf an comparative frs-edc ir. 



[ 121 ] 

body of every people are secure from the violent pas- 
sions : a free people, less, indeed ; but their jealousy, 
sensibility and transient violence, are rather a proof 
of their happiness ; for their passions are never ex- 
cited, except when they imagine they are about to 
lose either part or the whole of that, which Montes- 
quieu thinks the chief cause of their misery. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XIX. 



LONDOtr, MARCH i6th. 



1 HE subje6l of the following letter is so re- 
mote from common life, that I am willing it should 
be considered a romance, rather than a real history. 
Yet the incident, which has given rise to it, discov- 
ers as fine a trait of chara6ler, as any which ancient 
history can boast. 

The virtuous, when most suspe6led, undergo on- 
ly the suspicion of hypocrisy : the vicious seem to 
claim no other indulgence, than to have it distin- 
guished between a deficienc}^ of moral principle, 
the allurement of untried scenes, and irresistible 
temptation. Still, cases may be supposed, where 
the highest virtue is obliged to assume the garb of 
vice, and endure the penance. 

The young gentleman, who was sometime since 
my companion in Newman Street,* called on me 
this morning, and related the following adventure, 
which, in order to render as interesting as possible, 
I shall quote in his own words. 

" When I had gained her confidence, I 

asked her, how it happened, that so many of the 

• See Letter IX.— Newman Street. 



[ 123 ] 

feirest girls in the world, should prefer what was so 
erroneously called a life of pleasure, to the calm en- 
joyments of a heart at ease ? For I had never found 
one, however sweetly she might smile, or however 
bright the roses might bloom in the first moments of 
youth and health, whose present was not embitter- 
ed by the future. ^^ " And do you think me unhap- 
py ?" " Indeed I do, there is an anxiety preying on 
your heart, which all your earnestness to render 
yourself pleasing, serves only to render more evi- 
dent. It is true, this may render you more interest- 
ing to people of sensibility ; but you meet with few 
of these, their sensibility would keep them from 
you. " " You did not discover this, when you were 
here before ?" " No, I did not stay long enough : 
beside, the unexpected appearance of two strangers, 
together with our rapid conversation, gave you an 
animated look, which I now suspect was transient 
as the occasion." " But, pray, what do you see in 
my countenance, or what have you observed in my 
conversation, that leads you to think me unhappy ?" 
*' Why, you converse too sensibly not to be wretch- 
ed when you are alone ; and with respect to your 
looks, I am much mistaken if you have not 
been crying this morning." — This was unexpect- 
ed : she burst into tears. After a moment's si- 
lence, she looked up, and beaming upon me a couo- 



[ 124 ] 

tenance of more than human innocence, which the 
steadiness of her watery eyes confirmed, said she 
was indeed unhappy, but I was mistaken in the 
cause. I requested her to proceed ; she attempted, 
but her swoln heart did not permit her. What 
could I do?" *********** 

* # #*#*******#* * 

#** ********** ** 

* # * * " The next morning, I found her dis- 
posed to confidence. The confidence of a woman 
in distress is easily gained, if she believe you worthy 
of it. Her former gaiety had given place to a com- 
posed melancholy, and she seemed as though I had 
learnt her story before she told it : hence, with little 
or no embarrassment, she proceeded to tell me how 
unhappy it was, under the loss of reputation and the 
disgrace of the world, to retain the principles of vir- 
tue, which become more dear in retrospection." 
" I do not understand you," I observed. " You 
will direClly — I am ruined, and what distresses me 
most, I am ruined in the opinion of those for whose 
sake alone I have ruined myself." "This is the 
case with all those who are seduced." " Wait a 
little, you do not understand me : I never was se- 
duced ; I have known how to resist both the attacks 
of passion, and the half credited words of persua- 
sion. Still I am ruined, and yet my heart tells me, 



[ 125 ] 

I am still virtuous." *' I do not understand you.'^ 
*' My parents, in the midst of wretchedness and 
want, still in perspe6live found present happiness. 
I have now bereft them of that. I knew no pains 
which were not refle^ed from them, and they, no 
pleasure, which was not refle6ted from me. We 
were sufficiently miserable in the opinion of the 
world, yet I know not how it happened, when our 
distresses were at the height, we did not seem to be 
most wretched. Misfortune united us more tender- 
ly. How often have I understood their silent 
prayers for my welfare ! But heaven saw otherwise. 
You know, sir, every thing conspires to render the 
poor, still poorer : they are under a continually in- 
creasing pressure. The time soon came, when my 
parents had only me to look to for subsistence : but 
I could not do much, a female has every disadvantage 
to struggle with ; the same exertions on our part do 
not meet with the same consideration with those of 
your sex. My parents now, especially my father, 
began fo lose much of their former resignation. 
Whenever I went out, they seemed to read my des- 
tiny : whenever I came home, their eyes told me 
their suspicions. Hence, the scanty morsel either 
lost its relish, or the sense of hunger, sunk under the 
burden of a heavy heart. Nor did the night bring its 
wonted repose; Mary, my name, was uppermost in 



[ 126 3 

their disturbed sleep. My mother bore all this 
with some degree of fortitude, but my poor father 
soon lost his health. I had never before seen him 
on a sick bed : I now felt a new kind of affedlion, 
which entirely deprived me of any personal regard ; 
his welfare absorbed every other consideration. 
My poor mother's patience was inexhaustible : she 
would first look at him, and then at me, and seem in 
doubt for which to feel most. Nature must soon 
sink under sickness and want. I became desperate, 
yet myself was the only vi6lim. The more my fa- 
ther suffered, and the nearer he thought himself to his 
grave, I perceived he became more reconciled. I 
knew his disposition ; he wished to relieve me from 
the burden of his life. The moment I saw this, I 
forgot even the motive which so deeplj'' influenced 
him, I forgot his frequent half averted eyes, I forgot 
— ^Why need I tell you more ? I sacrificed my inno- 
cence to give bread to my parents : but the moment 
I returned, they knew all, but said not a word, while 
my own silence anticipated their fears, and confirm- 
ed their agony. Yet what surprised me was, my 
father seemed from that time, to recover his health : 
a misfortune which some little time before, I had 
imagined, would have overcome him, seemed to 
give him repose. Alas ! it was the repose of a brok- 
en heart. I soon perceived I was no longer their 



£ 127 3 

daughter ; and the sight of me, only rendered them 
more broken hearted. I still support them, and call 
on them at every opportunity, but they no longer see 
me with eyes watered with afFeftion, while my 
blessings are returned with a look, which tells me, I 
have no interest in their hearts." 

■* * *#* #* ******* * 
* * * '< We proceeded to her father's, in Red 
Lyon Street : she carried me up two pair of stairs 
into a back room. While walking up, she spoke of 
the humble way in which I should find they lived, 
and added, " It would be impossible for her to ren- 
der it more decent, without adding to their misery." 
On entering the apartment, I saw an old man and 
woman, who discovered a state of indifference, or 
apathy, rather than any positive distress : but when 
the old man made an effort to collect himself, then 
he discovered an imbecility, which told at once his 
situation ; for he sunk, a moment after, into a calm 
state of unmeaning quiet. The mother conversed 
with some degree of composure, glancing her eyes 
at intervals at her daughter, who, half fearful, yet ar- 
dently wishing to meet them, lost confidence at eve- 
ry effort. Women, I have observed, anticipate less 
trouble than men, and less frequently sink under the 
present. They can cry away their sorrow, and all 



C 128 3 

is well again. But man finds no vent for a heart too 
full ; the load accumulates, until he sinks under it. 
This is the case with the unhappy father. 

" If the filial piety of the Roman Daugh- 
ter, who nourished her imprisoned parent with her 
milk, merited a temple, and has attracted the histo- 
rian's and painter's notice, not less does this girl 
merit, who, to maintain her parents, submitted to 
prostitution." 

Adieu. 



LETTER XX. 



LONDON. MARCH 23d. 

X HE chara6ter of the English, I have more 
than once observed, discovers a singular mixture of 
dignity and servility. The more I see of this peo- 
ple, the more am I struck with these opposite traits. 
Here are few men who have not two characters, 
which they put off and resume at pleasure. The mo- 
ment aman is addressed, he either disciplines himself 
to a demeanour of inferiority, orassumes an air of im- 
portance, suitable to the opinion he thinks is enter- 
tained of his presence. Of all charadlers, that is 
least respectable, which is now the lion, and pres- 
ently the sheep. I have seen at a coffee house a 
man, who, in the pride of his importance, challeng- 
ed the whole conversation, and enjoyed that preemi- 
nence which was tacitly allowed, sink suddenly int^ 
annihilation the moment another person entered the 
room. 

They tell a pleasant story of an European, who 
was introduced to an Indian chief. You know the 
American savages are celebrated for their unreserv- 
ed deportment in presence of those whom the world 
s 



[ 130 ] 

call great. The European, with aninherent servili- 
ty, fell on his knees, and by his interpreter, address- 
ed his savage majesty to the following effect. 
*' Most powerful chief, who holdest in thy hands the 
destinies of the four corners of the earth, the fame of 
thy valour has encircled both hemispheres ! Accept 
the hom>age of the white man, who has come from 
the other side of the great water to behold the Little 
Toad Eater /"* Neither the chief nor his compan- 
ions smiled ; that might have discomposed the 
white man. Neither did the chief know how to re- 
ply : but suspecting from his posture, that he was 
quite exhausted, with true civility he asked him, If 
he tiiishedfor any thing to eat ! The interpreter re- 
plied. They had just eaten and drunk abundantly. 
This perplexed the chief and his companions, who 
wondered why the white man preferred to continue 
on his knees. At length the white man, thinking it 
a great breach of politeness to be left in such a sit- 
uation, asked, " How long he should continue on his 
knees?" The chief replied, " As long as he pleas- 
ed.^^ — This was natural : the child of nature being 
ignorant of the reason of his placing himself on his 
knees, knew no reason why at any particular time 
he should rise. 

Not a little of the national character may be dis- 
covered at the courts of law. The examination of 

* The name »f the cUef. 



[ 151 ] 

witnesses is a great i^lief to the judges, to the law- 
yers and to the jury, in the frequently tecftous tragi- 
comedy of law. A poor man comes into court witli 
a presentiment of being covered with abuse and in- 
sult. The counsellor frequently inquires his occu- 
pation, his mode of life and his circumstances, with 
a view to ridicule him. Cowardly condutSl, to 
abuse a defenceless man, under the covert of law, 
from behind a chief justice. But a man of fortune 
is treated very differently, and if any thing offensive 
should escape the counsel, there is immediate room 
made for an apology, which more than satisfies his 
delicate feelings. I know that, witnesses often give 
their evidence in a manner Avhich lays them open to 
fair remark ; but if this sometimes happen, it is not 
a sufficient reason for abusing an honest man. 
Should our citizens receive such treatment in our 
courts, as the poorer class of English suffer at 
Westminster and Guildhall, they would first call up- 
on the judge to protetH: them, in the same moment, 
if not protected, they would protect themselves. 
But here an innocent man is obliged to suffer, in 
cross-examination, the meditated brutality of a se- 
cure attack, while the judge stands ready to commit 
him to Newgate, if he dare assert his dignity. 

I am daily more and more surprised at the differ- 
ence between the English nationally, and indmdual' 



[ 132 ] 

ly. Themselves seem conscious of the difference. 
Individuals are more ready to resent national, than 
personal attacks. The man, who will sit patiently, 
and hear his neighbours abused, discovers instantly 
a spirit of opposition, if it be questioned, Whether 
the English were free under Queen Elizabeth ? It is 
the part of most men to take little care of their pri- 
vate, so long as their public, character stands fair. 
Dan Prior, after spending part of the evening with 
Pope, Swift and Oxford, would close it with a sold- 
ier and his wife, over a pot of porter in Long 
Acre. 

Jf the English think they have no circumstantial, 
prescriptive right to assume, they readily acquiesce 
in inferiority, and still assume as much as they dare. 
Not so our citizens, they attach voluntary respe6l to 
merit, but do not allow even superiority to assume 
any thing. 

I am happy to notice the following anecdote, as it 
discovers a rare species of magnanimity. I was late- 
ly in company with some of those happy mortals, 
who, having already enjoyed a competency of fame, 
are now reposing under their own statues. They 
were speaking of vulgar prejudices : one of them 
said he had been stoned several times, in passing 
through a certain country village, " because his hair 
naturally curled ^ I asked him. How long since 



I 133 ] 

this happened ? He replied, " When he was ^LJour- 
net/man shoemaker^ about thirty years since." 

I cannot better illustrate the subje6l of the present 
Jetjter, than by quoting the following famous speech 
of Beckford to George the Third. This speech is 
inscribed on Beckford's monument in Guildhall, in 
large, fair chara6ters. It is supposed to do the city 
of London great honour : there certainly is, in the 
last paragraph a wonderful degree of dignity for a 
Lord Mayor : but the Asiatic style of the rest will 
be received in the United States, for sarcastic rail- 
lery. 

"MOST GRACIOUS SOVEREICH, 

" WILL your Majesty he pleased so 
far to condescend as to permit the mayor of your 
loyal city of London to declare in your royal pres- 
ence, on behalf of his fellow citizens, how much the 
bare apprehension of your Majesty's displeasure, 
would, at all times, affe6t their minds : the declara- 
tion of that displeasure has already filled them with 
inexpressible anxiety, and with the deepest afflic- 
tion. Permit me, sire, to assure your Majesty, that 
your Majesty has not in all your dominions, any sub- 
jedls more faithful, more dutiful, or more affection- 
ate, to your Majesty's person and family, or more 
ready to sacrifice their liyes and fortunes to the 



I 134 ] 

maintenancfe of the true honour and dignity of your 
crown. 

** We do, therefore, with the greatest humility and 
submission, most earnestly supplicate your Majesty, 
that you will not dismiss us from your presence, 
without expressing a more favourable opinion of 
your faithful citizens, and without some comfort, 
without some prospe6l at least of redress. 

*' Permit me, sire, further to observe, that whoev- 
er has already dared, or shall hereafter endeavour by 
felse insinuations and suggestions to alienate your 
Majesty's affetSlions from your loyal subjedls in gen- 
eral, and from the city of London in particular, and 
to withdraw your confidence in, and regard for, your 
people, is an enemy to your Majesty's person and 
family, a violator of the public peace, and a betrayer 
of our happy constitution as it was established at the 
glorious revolution." 

Thus ended this famous speech : but his hard 
hearted majesty would scarcely sit in his chair, to 
hear the supplications of his poor, disconsdate citi- 
zens. Beckford was dismissed ^^ without prospect 
of comfort i and without redress. ^^ Alas, broken 
hearted citizens of London ! 

But I challenge all the archives of Asia to match 
the following : 



C 135 ] 

" The Lords, spiritual and temporal, and Coni' 
mons, do, in the name of all the people of England, 
most humbly an,d faithfully submit themselves, their 
heirs and posterity forever, " &c. I am sick of such 
stuff. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXL 



LONDON, MARCH 'itth- 

Xxad Theophrastus made a voyage to Brit- 
ain, he might have embellished his treatise De Lap- 
idibus with numberless lusi naturae. That Spar- 
tan was, no doubt, a wag, who asked the Athenian 
*' If trees grew square in his country ?" Yet I 
know not why trees at Athens should not have been 
square, as well as that the quarries in England 
should produce stones of all dimensions, some in 
the form of cylinders, others square, and some 
round. Nor is this all ; they not only grow in 
these convenient geometrical figures, but grow as 
smooth as the hand of art could polish thenri r and 
not a few of them seem to be fluted, as though a 
chisel had been employed, particularly those in the 
form of cylinders. Among all the curiosities in the 
British Museum, I saw not one of these natural 
productions ; a striking instance, how little man- 
kind regard the greatest natural miracles which are 
within the observation of every body, Should one 
of these fluted columns be discovered in New- 
England, every man would turn antiquary'. Yet I 



[ 137 3 

should be sorry to see any of these fluted columns in 
our country, for our citizens would be so pleased 
with them, they might endeavour to force our quar- 
ries to conform to those of England, and that would 
be an endless undertaking. 

With these ready made materials, it is no wonder, 
if many of their public buildings should be founded 
on a magnificent scale. St. Paul's is one, grand, 
entire, vast edifice, which does great honour to the 
Saint, and argues no little piety in the nation : yet 
where so much money is made by religion, it would 
look like ingratitude not to shew some litde exter- 
nal respedl to its founders. Yet St. Paul's is rather 
a niggardly building for a people who have sport- 
ed away so much money. St. Paul's cost only 
£ 1 ,500,000 sterling. Comparing the value of mon- 
ey at the period it was built, with the present val- 
ue of money, we may suppose it cost ;^3, 500,000 : 
a trifle, which could never have been missed 
from the treasury, and which might have been re- 
imbursed the nation in exchequer bills in two days. 
The front of St. Martin's, its bold design, its ma- 
jestic pillars, its elevated ground work, rising so 
gradually that the eye commands it without an ef- 
fort, its weighty pedestals and spacious portico, fre- 
quently delay the stranger until divine service is 
over. I might thus run over, in description, the 

T 



[ 138 ] 

Royal Exchange, Somerset House, Westmin- 
ster Abbey with a hundred others : but they con- 
vey no sentiment to the heart, no food to the mind, 
and scarcely the skeleton of an image to the imagina- 
tion. Yet the Parliament House, I must particu- 
larly mention. It is a very old building, and from 
a western view, seems to have fallen from the 
clouds in disjunQa membra, and to have been blown 
together by a violent wind ; so that the parliament 
and Parliament House are perfectly congenial. 
At different periods this building has undergone 
many improvements. There is quite a small por- 
tion of it called the House of Commons, which was 
formerly St. Stephen's chapel, which, a long period 
of time past, was devoted to what was then called 
religion. This part of the building is thought by 
many to be out of repair : but unfortunately it is 
situate so near the centre, and the approach to it is 
through so many windings, that you might as well 
pull down the whole edifice as undertake a repair. 
Beside, many of the occupiers of this apartment 
have an interest in the premises, and are naturally 
attached to a house which has cost them so much 
money ; but, like many other people, rather than re- 
pair their house, they are willing to hazard its falling 
on their heads. Perhaps no human invention was 
ever more criticised, than this apartment. For in- 



[ 139 ] 

stance : some have obsen'ed that it appears very 
well defined at a distance, but that internally it is 
litde better than a labyrinth, that those who enter 
soon get bewildered, no longer know their former 
friends, and seldom return the same way they enter- 
ed. Others have compared it to a \\'orsted purse, 
extremely accommodating, capable either of con- 
traction or expansion, at pleasure. Some have 
more ludicrously compared it to a puppet show, 
and have stretched the comparison beyond all 
bounds of toleration. After all, 1 think it the best 
room in the house. 

A little lower down is another famous apartment, 
rather ornamental, than useful, called the House of 
Lords. Its size is a little less than the House of 
Commons. I never was in any place so well calcu- 
lated for lounging, and I believe it a just remark, 
that most of those who find themselves on these 
satin seats lounge away the rest of their days. In- 
deed, government not unfrequently places resdess 
men there to make them easy, such a wonderful in- 
fluence have these satin seats on the spirits of men. 
A violent fever of ten or twentj'^ years, has been 
known to change to a lethargy for life. Calypso 
never possessed a stronger influence over the na- 
ture of men, than do these satin seats. 



[ 140 ] 

There are many small apartments on the area, 
well worthy the notice of a stranger. Those term- 
ed the courts of King's Bench and Equity are the 
most remarkable of the several courts. The court 
of Equity is a very small apartment, nearly circular, 
in allusion to the circle, I suppose, the most per- 
fe61: of figures : though a person, whose case had 
been in Equity five and twenty years, might sup- 
pose the allusion to point to time, as the circle has 
no end. All these courts of law are so exceedingly 
circumscribed, you might imagine they were calcu- 
lated only for the lawyers. The entrance to them is 
through a spacious hall, but the distance is so great, 
the suitors are frequently lost before they can find 
them : so, this spacious hall, though built for the 
public service, is chiefly devoted to the entertain- 
ment of a few lawyers. It is a pity these courts 
cannot be rendered more commodious and easy of 
access ; but there is very litde prospect of this ; for 
the bare proposition would resound a Nolumus mu- 
tare through the country. 

I shall speak more distinctly in my next letter. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXII. 

LOi^DOS, APRIL Ath- 

A HE conclusion of my last letter has given 
occasion to the present. 

Human laws, however well adapted to a people's 
circumstances, however ably defined or mildly exe- 
cuted, are of unequal operation. There is, in all 
societies, a certain number of characters, who hang 
so loosely on the social compa6l, that they may be 
considered privileged persons, and paramount the 
law : while a certain other portion, though seeming- 
ly born for the operation of law on themselves, yet 
contrive, through life, to shp the noose of justice. 
These two descriptions are little affe6led, whether 
the laws operate kindly, or with the greatest severi- 
ty. However, the number of these people will 
scarcely be troublesome under a polity, where all 
the members have it in their power, by industry, to 
live in decent respeClability. Our own country is 
an illustrious proof of this : the conveniences of life 
are there procured with such facility, and the gov- 
ernment fashioned so easy to the shoulders of its cit- 
izens, that the most ab^doned European rogues 



[ 142 ] 

find it their interest, on their arrival, to become lion- 
est. — ^But the burden of law forever bears hardest 
on that class of men, who in most countries are the 
majority, I mean those who have sufficient honesty 
to keep within the limits of law, yet not sufficient 
property to feel perfe6\ly easy under its authority. 
Hence, the daring observation of Beccaria will be 
found practically true, that, " The generality of 
laws are exclusive privileges, the tribute of all to tlie 
advantage of a few." 

Now, if the association of the rich and poor for 
the support of law, be a very unequal association; 
and if the poor sufter the chief burden of that estab- 
lishment, which protcdls the rich ; and if law will, 
from necessity, even in a government founded on the 
broad basis of political equality, that is, on public 
utility, operate in this manner, the man, who, con- 
fiding in the protection of law, which has received 
its sanction from the highest human authority, ex- 
periences, from whatever cause, its inefficacy, and 
finds himself ruined, though the law, in its sarcastic 
mockery, may give him a verdiCt, must feel his 
moral sense weakened, and feel disposed, in the mo- 
ment of indignation, to make reprisal. 

These observations are necessary, in order to con- 
vince you, I am serious in what I shall advance in 
the present letter : though I cannot reasonably ex- 
peCl one word of it will be believed. 



t 143 1 

It was the policy of Alfred, says history, to bring 
justice home to every man's door. Now this is 
either an ornamental story in the annals of that age, 
or madam Justice has for many years been too 
proud to enter the door of a cottage. 

It is the boast of the English, that they live under 
equal laws, and that the meanest man in the king- 
dom, in the eye of the law, ranks with the greatest. 
Though this were a vain boast, it bespeaks a people 
not entirely uninfluenced by noble sentiments. But 
it has unfortunately happened to other people beside 
the Romans, to appeal to laws engraven on twehe 
tables y but which, in process of time, attract the no- 
tice of the lawyer less, than that of the antiquary. 
A modern Roman may dig up a broken piece of an 
old column, which shall contain the whole spirit of 
Roman liberty, and on this authority, assert himself 
a freeman. So may an Englishman produce from 
l\is dusty archives Magna Charta, and quote you the 
proud passage, " Nulli vefidcffius, ?iuUi fiegabimics, 
aut d'lfferemiis, justitiam i^el rectum^'''' and I will 
send him to the court of King's Bench or Common 
Pleas to recover the sum of ;^10. A form of gov- 
ernment, or a code of laws may command our ad- 
miration, but unless they operate in practice, they 
serve only to betray the weak more easily to the wary. 
The operation of the laws is la%v, not their theory. 



[ 144 ) 

A le^itimite government, that is, a government 
founded on public will, should make it a first concern 
that the laws of property* should set as easy as possi- 
ble on the shoulders of poverty. The greatest praise, 
which a code of laws can receive, is the high estima- 
tion in which it is holden by the poor : but if their 
operation be oppressive, they naturally transfer their 
hatredfrom theabuses to the laws themselves. Hence, 
the embrio of revolution. It is unfortunate, that in 
all governments, destitute of a regenerative princi- 
ple, the first abuse merges in the second, and the last, 
in the suGceeding one, so that at length, accumu- 
lated abuses lay claim to prescription and outbrave 
the law itself ! Otherwise it never could have happen- 
ed that in England, famous throughout the world for 
just judges and well defined law, a poor man whom 
injury has overwhelmed, is necessitated to fly from 
remedy, lest the justice of his country should double 
his distress. Indeed, I caught the following obser- 
vation from Lord Chancellor Eldon,t while on his 
seat in chancery, " That a man who trusts to his 
neighbour's honesty^ without taking any security^ in 
many instances^ stands a better chance^of obtaining 
justice, than if he brings his case into chancery on the 

• Criminal law, however severe, in all countries, operates more equally 
than the laws which regulate private property. 

t Better kiiown in the United States by Sir John Scot. 



[ 145 ] 

faith of parchment.'" The cliancellor delivered 
this with a vehemence which did him honour, in just 
indignation at the perversion of justice, which, in 
his own court, under his own eye, obtains so fre- 
quently in spite of himself— But this was in the 
court of chancery. It is the inferior courts M'hich 
most interest the great mass of the people. In chan- 
cery, if the scales of justice sometimes labour, the 
suitors in general can afford to oil them. Let the 
laws take care of the poor ; the rich can take care 
of themselves : the widow's cruise I wish to spare. 

I shall now shew you, by a single fa61:, the prac- 
tical operation of law in England. 

In the year 1793, the number of writs, from ;^10 
to ;^20 only, which issued in Middlesex, amounted 
to 5719. The sums sued for amounted to ;^81,791. 
If not one of these writs had been defended, the 
costs would have amounted to ;^68,728. Had they 
been defended, the amount of costs would have aris- 
en to ;^285,950 ! This I do not expe6t you will be- 
lieve. What havoc among the poor ! Sir WiUiam 
Blackstone says, the impartial administration of jus- 
tice is the great end of civil society. But such jus- 
tice as the above, one would suppose would soon 
be the complete end of civil society. 

Coleman, in his comedy of the Poor Gentleman^ 
imagines the following dialogue between Sir Rob- 



[ 146 ] 

ert Bramble and Humphrey. Sir Rob. " Is there 
auy distresses in the parish ? Read the morning list, 
Humphrey." Humph. " Jonathan Haggens of 
Muck Mead is put in prison." Sir Rob. " Why, 
it was but last week, Gripe, the attorney, receiv- 
ed two cottages for him by law, worth sixty 
pounds. " Humph. ' ' And charged a hundred and 
ten for his trouble ; so, seized the cottages for part 
of his bill, and threw Jonathan in jail for the re- 
mainder." 

I know not where I read the following story, 
which though in the oriental style, was doubtless 
fabricated in England. 

Tanghi, a young and gay Chinese, had married 
the daughter of a wealthy Arab, whose dowry was 
three horses. Who was so happy as Tanghi ! He 
had a very pretty wife, and what, in some countries., 
is still more valuable than women, three of the fin- 
est horses in the empire. It is no wonder that 
Tanghi was disposed to make a gay appearance : he 
sported his horses to the admiration or envy of all 
Peking, But if wisdom is sometimes rash, how 
should folly know where to, stop ? Tanghi soon 
sported away his property, and in a moment of dis- 
tress, sold his finest horse, on a short credit. 
Tchin-chan, the purchaser, had a very particular 
friend, a lawyer, who commanded no little practice 



[ 147 ] 

at Peking. This friend had long expelled to be- 
come the proprietor of at least one of these Arabian 
horses ; and when his friend Tchin-chan informed 
him of the purchase, the lawyer naturally inquired, 
if the money was paid ? To oblige his friend, Tchin- 
chan promised to refuse payment. The lau yer im- 
mediately wrote a note to Tanghi, informing him, 
that Tchin-chan designed to refuse payment, and 
politely offered his services in recovering the money. 
At the end of nine months, Tanghi got judgment 
for the whole sum with interest. But Tchin-chan, 
by the admce of his friend^ appealed to a higher tri- 
bunal ; but Tanghi still recovered the money with 
interest. After another appeal in tlie last resort, 
final judgment with costs and interest was given in 
favour of Tanghi — For they think, in China, with 
Sir William Blackstone that, impartial justice is the 
great end of civil society. — The story adds, that just 
before final judgment, Tanghi's two other horses 
were attached by his lawyer. 

Is it not remarkable that legislation, which ought 
to be the first, has in all countries been the last con- 
cern of nations ? While people are making tele- 
scopes, twenty feet long, to discover new systems, 
they are regardless of man, the glory of their own 
system ! Could not an Englishman visit the United 
States, and retort much of this letter back again ? / 
believe he might. 



[ 148 ] 

"There is one petty institution in London which 
merits all my admiration. It is the only instance 
which I haiie ener' founds of a discrimination between 
the rich and the poor* 

This institution is a Court of Requests, without 
appeal, for the recovery of debts under forty shil- 

* It is very true, the laws of property make no distinftion between man and 
man. A poor man is secure of justice, •when his cause comes before the sacred tri- 
hitnal, but if he do not perish before it arrives there, he may possibly find himself bu- 
ried at last under a load of justice. Of all the emperors of the East, Selim was 
the most just. Not a day passed in which it was not proclaimed from the tow- 
er of the palace, Selim is just I Selim never sleeps luhile injustice triumphs. The 
name of Selim mingled itself with the religion of his subjedls ; no praises ascended 
to Alia, in which Selim was not named, no tears were shed which accused Selim, no 
wrinkles of age dated a deeper furrow to the account of Selini. His presence among 
his people was benign as the dew of heaven to the tropic latitudes. Razai lived far 
from the capital, content to cultivate a few paternal acres. An opulent neighbour 
in draining his own lands, had overflowed the little patrimony of Razai. In vain 
Kazai remonstrated, and then proceeded to the capital to throw himself at the feet 
of Selim, often repeating by the way, Selim is just I Not a day passes in which is 
not pfoclaimed from the tower of the palace, Selim never sleeps while injustice tri' 
timphs. Razai had never seen the capital, and when he entered it, his inquiring 
eyes and earnest looks, arrested the attention of every body. He told his story 
an hundred times before he arrived at the palace, every one telling him, that 
Selim loas just, that it was daily proclaimed from the tower that, Selim never 
slept -while injustice triumphed. He approached the palace, and just before he 
entered, he heard the sound of a trumpet proclaiming, Selim is just ! Selim nev- 
er sleeps ivhile injustice triumphs. Razai's heart was in liis eyes, his heart was 
all over him, he exclaimed, in tlie warmth of Us feelings, Selim is just ! and I 
shall return a hapjiy man to Schirah. Razai entered the palace, and thought he 
found himself already in the ])resence of Selim, so splendid was the person who 
received him. It was one of Selim's favourite officers of the household. Razai 
related his case, and the officer responded, Selim is just I But all who approach 
Selim must first purify themselves, at the entrance of the palace, with an ofTer- 
ing to justice. He was then condudled one step nearer to the throne of Selim, who 
was sitting in j udgment. He was received by another splendid personage : Razai re- 
lated his story, and the officer replied, Selim is just '. Behold the eternal light of jus. 
tice ! bright as the sun, and pure as his rays : but all who approach Selim, nmst first 
nourish this lamp with oil. This done, Razai was diredledtothe chief Aga. Here- 
iatedhis story to the chief Aga, who responded, Selim is just ! But all who approach 
——At this moment, Razai saw several persons returning from the royal presence. 
With a hc.ut bmsting, dubious, alarmed, he cried out, "Is Selim just I" With one 
voice they all exclaimed, " Selim is just ! But, alas ! we perish under a load of 
justice!" 



[ 149 ] 

lings, at the expense of ten pence !* There are a 
multitude of these petty courts distributed through 
Westminster, and if they operate without abuse, 
these institutions, in my opinion, are not less illus- 
trious, than that of the most noble order of the 
Garter. 

Such institutions in the capital towns of the Unit- 
ed States, would prove an alleviation from one of the 
greatest pressures under which the poor labour. 
Such courts would command the whole pra^lice 
under ten dollars, and if the emolument of the office 
would not engage a man of integrity and talents, let 
him be remunerated from the county treasury. 

It would not be less glorious, than beneficial to 
the United States, should congress commission, at 
the expense of the nation, a number of intelligent 
men to bring home all that is better in other coun- 
tries, both in Economy, Law, Agriculture and the 
Arts of Life. — Rome was not ashamed to send to 
Athens, and copy the laws of ♦Solon. Missi legati 
Athenas Sp. Postumius Albus, A. Manlius, 
P. Sulpicius Camerinus; jussique inclytas leges 
Solonis descnbere^ et alianim Gracia chitatum insti- 
tuta, mores, juraque noscere.f. 

Adieu. 

• sterling. t Livy. 



LETTER XXIIL 



LOlfDON, APRIL 9th, 

xVn Englishman once recommended to his 
son, who was about to travel, to go forty miles to see 
a man of letters, rather than five, to see a famous 
city. The republic of letters has lost nothing of its 
ancient liberality. It is only necessary to wish to 
see learned men, in order to be admitted to their so- 
ciety. I discovered this so soon, that I burnt most 
of my merchant-letters of introdu6lion. 

I am acquainted with a gentleman who seems to 
have studied mankind with considerable success. 
He is learned, intelligent and communicative : and 
what renders these qualities still more valuable, be is 
not an author. Of two men in all respedls equal, 
one of whom is not an author, I prefer the company 
of him who has not written a book.* Mr. L. I im- 
agine, is past fifty : this with me is a recommenda- 
tion ; his age and intelligence give him an authority, 
which, in general, I have no right to dispute, while 
my deference disposes him to confidence, and raises 



* Tliose who have written books are sometimes more precise, but generally, 
dogmatical, angular and systematic. 



[ 151 ] 

us above rivalry. He invited me, sometime since, 
to visit St. Paul's, on some pleasant morning, and 
from its eminence to take a view of the city, for he 
had not overlooked it, he said, for more than twenty 
years. 

I waited on him yesterday morning, and was hap- 
py to find him disposed to dissipate the day. It will 
be a memorable occasion with me, and not uninter- 
esting to you : I shall therefore commemorate it 
with a long letter. 

He observed, " He had always been fond of culti- 
vating the society of foreigners, for this was a surer 
means of understanding the peculiarities of a people, 
than reading either their history, or the fictions of 
travellers. Those minutiae, which distinguish the 
domestic character of one people from another, are 
either overlooked, or thought too trifling to claim 
the notice of the historian, while the traveller is 
equally ready to embeUish or deform. Hence, one 
nation knows very little of another, except of their 
more prominent or excrescent features. You have 
heard, that the Englishman is a more downright, 
positive character, than the Frenchman ; but you 
will understand this chara^eristic better, if you wit- 
ness a conversation between them : the one will use 
the indicative, the other frequently the subjundlive, 
mode." He added, "No man can be acquainted 



[ 152 ] 

-with foreigners, if they have their proper chara(Slers, 
without esteeming their nation more, than if he had 
never seen any individual of that nation. You, 
sir," addressing himself more particularly to me, 
" esteem the English more than you did before you 
visited them." " That is very true, sir, but I es- 
teem England less.^^ " That distinction I expell- 
ed you would make ; but I would permit no other 
foreigner to make it ; he should say, with you, he es- 
teemed Englishmen, but admired England. " 

1 ought to have premised that Mr. L. is re- 
markably liberal, except when a subje6l is started 
which may possibly touch hard on England : and 
though a bitter dissenter, he is not less an En- 
glishman. 

He then asked me, if I took notes of whatever 
made new impressions ? ** Yes, sir," I replied, 
" I shall note the particulars of our present conver- 
sation." "I fear you will prove'a severe judge." 
*' Why so, sir ?" " Your education and principles 
will lead you to brandish the scourge of satire, rath- 
er than wanton with the plume of panegyric : you 
regard society as a wilderness, which mocks at the 
pruning hook, and will only yield to the ploughshare. 
You ought not to speak of England, before you have 
observed the state of society on the continent." 
*' In what respect, sir, do you think I shall suffer 



[ 153 ] 

my prejudices to bias me ?" " Why , for instance, you 
cannot behold a nobleman's country seat with any 
pleasure : the cottages of the tenants renew the feu- 
dal system : you cannot patiently see a fine equip- 
age ; the servants, before and behind, affe6l you 
with convulsions : nor can you contemplate his 
Majesty with any complacency ; his guards revive 
the pretorian bands : in short, you are not pleased 
to see a rich man ; for you immediately begin to cal- 
culate the number of poor, one rich man supposes. 
But, sir, your feelings carry you too far ; so long as 
civil society exists, a large portion of mankind must 
be comparatively poor : riches and poverty are con- 
vertible terms, and the distin6lions among men 
founded in nature : as in a forest, you may observe 
a few trees, kings of the wood, many on an equality, 
and of respedlable height, but a yet greater number, 
mere dwarfs, which nature stints, (and these in re- 
sentment grow crooked and knotty,) beside a great 
quantity of furze and underwood, which are found 
below the latter." "Nay, sir, you have no right to 
use this inanimate illustration : did these dwarfs, 
this furze, and this underwood, suffer,* by being 
overshadowed by these kings of the wood, your ex- 
position were happy : beside, sir, nature, to whom 
you appeal, is not so capricious ; you have coupled 

• Dr. Darwin might allow this to be a euceessful elucidation. 
W 



[ 154 ] 

together, trees, furze and underwood, three differ- 
ent species : now we find in inanimate nature a cer- 
tain deference to equality, among members of the 
same species. But, sir, if an Upas tree were to spring 
up on the equator, and threaten to overshadow^ the 
whole world, would not every tree of the wood, be 
interested to destroy the poisonous influence of this 
tyrant Upas ? You carry your principles too far, 
sir." He smikd at my impetuosity. 

In passing down Fleet Street, we saw, at a dis- 
tance, a man of enormous and disproportionate 
body. ' ' Do you see that man," said Mr. L. " who 
is approaching with such hard labour ? Twenty 
years since, he was as healthy, a6live, and well pro- 
portioned as any man in London ; but unfortunately, 
a distant relation left him a large fortune. This 
proved his ruin ; he abandoned himself to indolence 
and high living, consequently to gout and grossness. 
The fat soon began to grow about his eyes, so that 
now, you see, he is almost blind ; another twelve- 
month, I expedl, will hermetically seal both of his 
eyes." 

Soon after, he pointed to a litde court, which we 
passed, observing, " a man lived in a back apartment 
there, who could not give a better account of him- 
self for the last twenty years, than could the person 
we had just seen." I asked, who he might be? 



[ 155 ] 

" He is an alchymist," said Mr. L. "in search of 
the philosopher's stone ; but," added he, " I have 
never known but one man who attained the secret : 
he knew the gra?id art of being happy without it.'" 
*' But, sir, how can you account for it, that people 
in this age, should attempt to realise fortunes from 
those speculations, wherein thousands have misera- 
bly failed, and not one has ever succeeded ? Noth- 
ing equals this, in the annals of madness and extrav- 
agance." *' Yes," said Mr. L. '' notwithstanding 
every preceding adventurer has been ruined, not- 
withstanding the ridicule attached to the pursuit, 
notwithstanding repeatedly abortive experiments, 
still there are alchymists who persevere in search of 
the philosopher's stone. But there arc anomalies in 
the minds of men, which perplex the deepest re- 
search. We have on record several instances of 
chara6lers not less extraordinary, than the alchym- 
ists of our days. The charafiler of Proxenus, for 
instance, near the end of the second book of Xeno- 
phon's Retreat of the Ten Thousand, TaSr* Sv <p»A»- 

TToXifta ^OKU u)l^^<ii i'^fx tlvxt, <>V<S, 8|«v ftiv ii^nmv t^uv uviv a.\<ry(J> 
»)jj v^ /SAseSii? attUTM veMftitv' s|o» ^l fxBvfiitv, /3»;il]«< ■?roviiv u'^i ttaA- 

TToiilv. Not less unaccountable was the bias of the mind 
of Pyrrhus, who proposed the most arduous and im- 
possible exploits, as the means of attaining to that 



[ 156 ] 

situation which he already enjoyed. No country, 
like this, offers so much encouragement to novelty, 
whether useful, capricious or elegant : hence, every 
new theory, whether of utility or monstrous deform- 
ity, is laboured into perfection. And, as amidst the 
boundless extravagance of this metropolis, nothing 
is lost, so among the sti'il more extravagant imagina- 
tions of men, no idea which can he wrouglit into a 
mechanical, scientific, or literary coiximodity is suf- 
fered to float in vacuum, but is fashioned or tortured 
into profit. Hence, you find thousands of quacks of 
all descriptions, whose success gives them a degree 
of respe6lability, not a few of whom have probably 
become dupes to their own quackery." "Why, 
then sir, all mankind are quacks, for I have never 
known a man, who was not fully persuaded of many 
errors, in support of which, he would have set a 
contrary convi6lion at defiance." " Nay, sir, they 
are not quacks, until they expose their commodities 
to the public, or protrude their sentiments on man- 
kind. If a man really believe he has discovered a 
panacea, he is not a quack if the secret remain in his 
own breast. You would not have ihought Mahom- 
et an impostor, if after his death you had found the 
Koran in his cabinet." — At this moment a quack 
advertisement was put into my hands — " There, 
sir, if that man should swallow all his own pills, he 



[ 157 1 

might be a fool, but would not be a quack." 
*' With deference, sir, I obje6l to Mahomet; why 
would he not have been an impostor ?" "He would 
so, if mankind had been weak enough to have be- 
lieved him : so would the author of the Arabian 
Night's Entertainments, so would Jacob Bhemen 
and Emanuel Swedenbourg have been impostors, 
so far as their works were thought to be real history 
or divine authority, rather than the recreations of 
fancy, or the impulses of delirium." 

We now approached Ludgate Hill, on the emi- 
nence of which stands St. Paul's. We visited sev- 
eral apartments before we ascended the cupola ; in 
one of which there is the ancient model, from which 
St. Paul's was built. Being ignorant of architec- 
ture, I improved the opportunity of informing my- 
self of a few technical terms. I asked what a certain 
part was denominated. "That is the w^-y^," said 
the person who waited on us. " Did you not 
know," said Mr. L, "that there is usually a na'ue 
in a church .^" He added, " Your churches are dif- 
ferendy modelled." I was proud of the compliment, 
and told him I believed the clergy in the United 
States, really were, in point of morality and primi- 
tive simplicity, an ornament to the country, and not 
unworthy successors of the apostles." " To what 
do you attribute this exemplary carriage?" "To 



[ 158 ] 

this, sir, that the simplicity of the gospel has not 
in the United States mingled with politics, and pro- 
duced a religious aristocracy : you know, sir, we 
have no church establishment, there is unlimited tol- 
eration "Without political restriction ; hence, among 
the various se6ls, there is a spirit of christian emu- 
lation." " Then you do not think," said Mr. L. 
*' that Jesus Christ, at his second coming, will be 
likely to call on my lords the bishops ?" " Our Sav- 
iour, at his second coming, would, if he visited any 
one, visit him who shall have most of his own spirit, 
and will be more likely to enter a cottage, than a pal- 
ace." " Yes, he doubtless would, ifhe Appeared in 
his former habit, for he would be obliged to work all 
his miracles over again, before his lordship would 
admit him into the parlour. However, I do not 
think he would come to England." " Why not, 
sir ?" " They, I do not mean the Jews, would put 
him to death a second time." " I do not under- 
stand you, sir." " Then," said Mr. L. " you do 
not understand the manners of the age." 

When we had ascended to the cupola, I reminded 
him of the conversation in the apartment of the 
church model. He resumed the subje6l, and spoke 
as follows : ' ' The laws, customs and opinions of ev- 
ery country, whether good or bad, whether founded 
in truth or error, must be resped^ed. There are 



[ 159 ] 

two species of treason ; one of sentiment, or theo- 
retical, the other, overt, or pra^ical ; the latter is 
regarded by all governments with more lenity, than 
the former : an overt a6l of treason has its particular 
obje\?t, and the law has defined its nature and pun- 
ishment. But the first species of treason is too 
subtle for the law ; it can neither be anticipated nor 
defined : hence, more dangerous, as it infe^ls the 
community without suspicion, and tends to revolu- 
tion without remedy. Hence, we ought not to ad- 
mire at the jealousy of governments, when new 
opinions, subversive of old maxims, are pubUshed : 
for every government which has not a renovating 
principle, soon becomes a tyranny, and feels inter- 
ested in supporting a certain set of notions, no mat- 
ter whether right or wrong. 

*' The death of Socrates has been considered, in 
all ages, an enormity of injustice, scarcely surpassed 
by the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The fate of this 
man has been lamented in the pulpit, and wept in 
the closet. Who has not sympathised with the old 
bald philosopher, and been ready to burst the pris- 
on, and snatch the bowl of hemlock from his hand, 
and dash it on the floor ! Yet, let us, for a moment, 
inspe6l the condu6l of this philosopher. The relig- 
ion of his country 4iad been settled for ages ; yet 
he enterprised in disquieting the state by introduc- 



C 160 ] 

ing new, and disparaging the established gods : he 
endeavoured, as Cato the Censor justly remarked, 
to aboHsh the customs of his country, and draw the 
people over to opinions contrary to the laws. In 
what country, or in what age, would Socrates have 
fared better ? Should such a man appear in England, 
and maintain principles as unconstitutional, and as 
abhorrent to those of the lords bishops, as those of 
Socrates were inconsistent with the laws and receiv- 
ed notions of the Athenians, he would awaken a re- 
sentment, which might forget for a moment the len- 
ity of law. 

" The apostle Paul would meet with a worse re- 
ception in England, than he did in Greece, or Rome. 
If we consider for a moment his letters to the Greek 
and Roman populace, we shall be surprised at the 
clemency of those statesmen, who so long tolerated a 
man whose doctrines, with elevated contempt, not 
only trampled on their whole national mythology, 
but entered their cities, and expelled the auspicious, 
presiding Lares ; nay more, which pervaded their 
social firehearths and exdomesticated the hallowed 
Penates. What has Paine, Priestly or Price, what 
has Tooke, Wakefield or Godwin, advanced so of- 
fensive to the feelings of the present age, as were the 
principles of Socrates and St. Patil, to the Athenians 
and Romans ? Now if Christ should appear in En- 



[ 161 ] 

gland, or in any other country in Europe, and con- 
du6l exactly as he did in Judea, what, sir, do you 
think would be the consequence ? He would, doubt- 
less, find many followers, but the scribes and phari- 
sees would feel interested, first to deny, and then to 
put him to death." 

This letter is already too long, therefore you may 
expe^l in another the conclusion of tlie expedition 
to St. Paul's. 

Adieu, 



LETTER XXIV. 



LONDOif, APRIL i6th. 

After the notices to which the nave in the 
church gave rise, Mr. L. pointing round the hor- 
izon observed, with national complacency, You 
see now the metropolis of the queen of isles. The 
name of London is conne6led with the envy, hatred, 
or admiration of the world. 

"Her fame expends as far as winds can blow. 
Or ships or fish upon the waters flow." 

He added, " There is more public spirit, there is 
more amor patria^ there is more obstinacy of re. 
sistance, when oppressed, within the circumference 
of ten miles, than in all tlie rest of Europe. Then 
witli an energy, which transported to ancient times, 
he repeated those famous lines of x^lcmon. 

Ti^vn rutlcvm at vixu? e<V<v, 
'AaV eVa Trer' ccv ««r/v"A NAPES 
AvTis; cu^uy itooriSf 
Eilxv6ei Tit'^n) >^ woA£<j. 

Now cast your eye on the Thames, and contem- 
plate the innumerable merchantmen. The per- 



t 163 3 

fumes of Arabia, the luxuries of the South, and 
the elegancies of the East are wafted up this sil- 
ver stream, and thence distributed through a thou- 
sand channels to gratify the senses of this happy peo- 
ple. Here you jfind what no other people ever 
witnessed, luxury and hberty, commerce and 
strength of chara6ler. " 

Happy the man, thought I, who in the midst of 
misery and ruin, sees nothing but the rainbow 
scenes of felicity. Such an one will find flowers in 
December. 

" You seem to be in a reverie," said Mr. L. 
*' Yes, sir, I was comparing the English with those 
blessed spirits of Indian paradise, who reposing, half 
intoxicated, beside waterfalls, on the banks of their 
elysium, sleep only to dream of pleasure, and wake 
only to enjoyment. O, happy people of Wapping, 
did you but know your happiness ! For you, tlie 
luxuries of the South and the elegancies of the East 
are landed at your doors. O, fragrant tatterdemal- 
lions of St. Giles', would*' you but incense your- 
selves with the perfumes of Arabia !" 

Mr. L. smiling at this evaporation, observe d that 
every Picadilly and Pall Mali must have a St. 
Giles' : and every Fleet Street and Cornhill a Wap- 
ping." 



[ 164 ] 

He then asked me, " If I had ever traced the; 
progress of civil society, from its first rude endeav-^ 
ours, to its present state of social afFe6\ion and ac- 
commodating polity ?" 

Mr. L. then observed, " Here are nearly a mil- 
lion of people in this small compass, whose interests, 
views and pursuits cross each other as often as do 
the streets, or as constantly as do the passengers. 
Yet human policy has contrived to divest them, in 
a great measure, of Hobbs' principle^ and has ren- 
dered them the most pliant, docile and submissive 
of all animals. In a state of nature corporeal strength 
assumes over the mental facult^^. Here, all the vi- 
olences of a state of nature are usurped under law, 
custom, prerogative, privilege, pride, avarice and 
fashion : and what would be considered among 
barbarians refinement on barbarity is efie^ted 
here by mutual consent." " I pray you, sir, 
particularise." " Why, for example, do you 
wish to banish a man from his country ? It may be 
easily effe6led, at the same time you shall appear to 
confer a favour. Do you wish to assassinate your 
enemy ? gain his confidence, affe6l friendship, an- 
ticipate his feelings, administer to his desires, allure 
him to the precipice, and in the degree he approach- 
es ruin, you shall rise in his esteem : but if you wish 
to imbitter his situation with a knowledge of your 
own perfidy, throw him into prison, and keep him 



t 165 ] 

there for life. If this process be too tedious, there 
is a more direct way. If the man be in business, 
collude with his creditors and employers. Do you 
wish to see him worn to a skeleton with constant fa- 
tigue ? Garrow shall be made to "wear away his 
eyebrows* ; and Erskine and Gibbs shall become sal- 
low in poringoverdark questions, darkened still more 
with the glorious uncertainty of the law : while the 
Judge shall daily sit seven hoursf on the bench, in 
defiance of gout, gravel and stone. In one word, 
sir, do you wish to send your enemy to hell, advise 
him to take orders, and offer him promotion in the 
church." 

" But I am most surprised that this immense 
number of people who live at the expense of each 
other, and who have less regard for their neighbours, 
than the savage has for those of his tribe, should 
contrive to live in a compass so small. I think it 
worthy of remark that, the most populous cities 
have always been most easily governed." 

" Why," said Mr. L. " those who are most en- 
slaved, are most obedient to their rulers. If you could 
put all the Chinese, Italians, Germans and Span- 
iards into a washing tub, they would be more eas- 



* Mr. Garrow has no eyebrows, and no wonder, since he has browbeaten so 
many witnesses. 

t The Chief Justice of the court of King's Bench is daily on the Bendi seven 
hours during nearly six months ifl the year. 



[ 166 1 

ily governed. In despotic states they are more 
qiiiet and passive, than iu a monarchy like this. 
Hence, more enormities are committed in England 
in one year by the subject, than in any other coun- 
try in Europe ; but on the other hand, fewer inju- 
ries are oiFered to the subject, under the sanation of 
law." 

" This may be true, sir, with respeft to Eng- 
land, but how happens it that in the United States, 
a country so free, that not a few of the savages have 
preferred it to Lake Huron, or tlie more temperate 
recesses of the South West, fewer enormities should 
be committed by the subject there, than in England ? 
To particularise — In the most strongly contested 
ele6lions there has never been a man slain : they 
cannot say this at Westminster or Nottingliam." 
"It is of little consequence to your people, who 
their legislators are, so long as the constitution is 
administered on its own principles. Now the prob- 
ability is, that of two, three, or more candidates, all 
will support the constitution. Hence, there is at 
present, with your people, no other than a personal 
motive of preference, in most ele<5lions." " I in- 
stanced but one particular : can you give as good 
a reason why there are fewer crimes of every de- 
scription committed by the citizens, in the United 
States, than in any other country ?" Mr. L. candid- 



[ 167 ] 

iy allowed it was to be attributed to the system sf 
government. 

Mr. L. then gave the conversation another turn, 
and observed, " There was once a merchant in ex- 
tensive business, of deep calculation and great fore- 
sight, who ascended St. Paul's to command a 
view of the city. He took a map from his pocket, 
and stood sometime in melancholy musing, when 
he exclaimed, " Here is a true picture of worldly 
greatness : this city has already cost more than it 
will ever be worth !" " What do you imagine was 
the process of this merchant's mind r" said Mr. L. 
— " Perhaps he was a West India proprietor, per- 
haps he was an East India dire6lor, perhaps he was 
a great stockjobber, perhaps he was all these to- 
gether, and perhaps he had been in both Indies and 
seen in the East those Jingles* of which Cornwal- 
lis, the successor of Mr. Hastings, wrote to the 
Company : if so, the etherial air of this eminence 
might have elevated his mind, for a moment, above 
personal consideration, and led him to compare the 
affluence and happiness of London with the misery 
and oppression of all those who are the sources of 
your greatness. Then casting his eye on the map, 
and refle^ling how large a portion of the globe was at 

• Cornwallis wrote to the East India Company, that three fifths of the Com- 
pany's territory had become a Jingle, that is, deserted by the natives, and pos- 
sessed by— wild beasts, meting thereby lions, tygers, leopards, &c.— fiot 
£nglishmen. 



[ 168 ] 

that moment suffering for the aggrandisement of a 
few merchants, he was naturally urged to exclaim, 
Auri sacra fames /" 

While I was repeating this, I perceived Mr. L. 
was collecting himself for a violent explosion — In his 
opinion, I had not been sufficiently respectful to- 
ward the majesty of Old England. " Sir," said he, 
'* you have totally mistaken the merchant's mean- 
ing. He was a notorious miser, who came here for 
the pleasure of contemplating the various situation 
of his own estates, on a map of London, but being 
jealous of the depreciation of real estate, he M'^as 
alarmed for his property. — Commerce, sir, which 
you affe6l to undervalue, is the grand pillar of our 
strength and magnificence. A small extent of ter- 
ritory, in these times, must be commercial in order 
to maintain its entirety and independence : the peo- 
ple, occupied in commerce and manufactures, must 
depend for protection on the military resources 
which wealth ensures, or suffer, at least, a dismem- 
berment. Destroy our commerce, and you instant- 
ly wither the heart of England : those thousand 
veins, which conduCt from a thousand extremities 
in so many and distant directions to this centre, 
would cease to nourish their parent source. " 

This was conclusive, so far as it related singly to 
England. - But I could not refrain from observing. 



[ 169 ] 

'' There was no mutual benefit, for Englanci profit- 
ed of the n)eins^ but afforded not a single artery.^'' 
We now descended. 

After I returned home, I fell into a reverie. Here 
is a country, thought I, whose own greatness is built 
on the oppression and slavery of all those who are 
connected with her : wherever England has laid her 
hand, she has left the print of her fingers. Wherev- 
er she has trodden, she has blasted vegetation. Of 
whatever country she has gotten possession, she has 
teduced it, either to a state of slavery, or desolation. 
The moment her influence is felt, that moment ei- 
ther rouses the spirit of emigration, or impels to im* 
mediate flight. * The fertile fields of Ireland show no- 
ble cattle, but a fine harvest is a blessing to her oxen, 
not to her people : they are excluded from God's 
[A-ovidence. Even Scotland, reduced far below a 
state of nature, and weary of the sight of her dear na- 
tive hills, banishes herself forever to the frontiers of 
America. Nor is England much more enviable ; 
she starves her subjects to fatten her horses. If this 
be the state of things under the wing of the English 
constitution, what may be expelled at the extremi- 
ties of the empire ? If their West India possessions 



♦ Vet the government of England, when they destroy their enemies, adore 
God's righteous judgment: when themselves are likely to suffer, they cry out, 
in the name of heaven and earth, agrunst thie diabolical machinations of tlieir 
euemifS. 



[ no ] 

were sufficiently extensive to drain Africa, in ten 
years, the race of negroes would be extinfl !* The 
East is more involved in darkness : and perhaps it 
is more honourable to humanity, and to the honour- 
able East India Company, that this history should 
never be written nor mentioned. 

Help me bless God, my dear fellow, that the 
United States are not within the influence of this 
Upas ; and that we are nationally guilty of but one 
enormity, I mean the toleration of slavery. 

Oh heaven ! Is it possible that in the United^ 
States, a country, where triumph the purest princi- 
ples of legislation which ever adorned civil society ; 
a country, in which the human charadter is already 
elevated to a superior species of man, compared 
witli the miserable wretches of Europe ; a country, 
whose present principles, tested by its present con- 
duct, are to influence future ages, and perhaps sanc- 
tion the basest crimes ; is it possible that in such 
a country, you can find a " Slave to be sold ?" What 
abominable impudence ! What unheard of incon- 
sistency ! Let'Other people, who do not acknowl- 
edge our feelings and our principles, enslave and be 
enslaved. Europe is not inconsistent ! she never 



* It has been ascertained that the West India planters are obliged ro import 
annually at the rjite ••? ten fir cent un their itoik. I submit this t» hOT4 
Thurlow. 



C 171 ] 

acknowledged the rights of man. Yet in England, 
a country whose oppressions have travelled with the 
revolution of the globe, have explored new oceans, 
and have extended to the four quarters of the 
world, a negro is as free as a Briton ! I blush for 
my country ; and I have been made, by English- 
men, to blush for my country ! 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXV. 

LONDOh', APRIL 22d. 

i HE ^outh of Europe h^s long l^een accus- 
tomed to call the English, barbarians. The weak-r 
er chara^er, which suffers rrcrni the stronger, is 
readily disposed to strong epithets. The degenerate 
Greeks termed the Ronnans, barbarians. — A nation 
of slaves will always be inclined to consider their 
neighbours, barbarous, in the degree tliey approach 
natural freedom. This opinion of foreigners ought 
to flatter the English ; tliey would be little disponed 
to become like t|ieir neighbours, in order to be more 
civilized. 

That people, wh9cver they may be, who, for a 
thousand years, have neither changed their constitu- 
tion of government, nor their religion, nor suffered 
the forcible and infe6lious intercourse of foreigners, 
but whose laws, customs, manners and sentiments, 
kindly bending with time and circumstance, are 
nothing more than emanations from the spirit of their 
government, will regard the English, who possess a 
character so different frqjiii themselves, as a mon- 
strous sort of people, 



[ 173 ] 

However, it must be conceded, foreigners have 
some little colour for. their opinion, though they 
are not sufficiently candid to inquire the reason. 
The English have been so frequently bandied about, 
within a thousand years, and suffered so many 
modifications, that one part of their chara6ler is 
at least two centuries behind the other. This will 
ever be the case, where the original stock of a na- 
tion, like the English, has suffered so many ingraft- 
ings and revolutions. That laws, customs and man. 
ners keep pace with civilization, it is necessary the 
people should preserve their principles and their in- 
dividuality, and be neither retarded nor impelled in 
their career. But if a people be not originally free, 
when they enter the social confederacy, those 
checks, which they may receive, and those foreign 
inroads, which will partially destroy their inviduali- 
ty, are as likely to benefit, as to injure. 

The English, you very well know, have been pe- 
culiarly subje6l to those impressions, which revo- 
lutions leave behind ; and no revolution can happen 
without impelUng the worst passions into aclion, 
and transmitting them to posterity. 

This people, within the notices of history, were lit- 
tle better, than savages. Propitious events have ter- 
minated in comparative freedom : buttliese events, 
jiot always happening at that period of theii' civiliza- 



[ 174 ] 

tion most conducive to their advantage, have ren- 
dered the English the most complex chara6lers in 
Europe. I will instance. 

From the moment Magna Charta was signed, 
the English fancied themselves free : the nobles, 
indeed, attained their object. The people also were 
proclaimed free : but they had not more of the 
spirit of freemen, than the slave who rests on his 
spade and listens to the song of liberty. They ivere 
not iben readt/ for freedom. The event of the revo- 
lution of 1688s was the best constitution of govern- 
ment, which modern Europe, which perhaps the 
world had ever witnessed. The English were then 
free : unfortunately their freedom came too late. 
Liberty, for the first time, found herself seated on 
tlie couch of commerce ! The consequence might 
have been foreseen : an evil has grown up with the 
English constitution, which has long since proved 
its ruin. 

There is but one period, allotted to any people, in 
which they can establish their freedom. Prior to this 
period, they are too barbarous : posterior to this 
period, they are too civilized. The Romans, under 
the auspices of Lucius Junius Brutus, seized the 
happy moment. In process of time, they gradually 
lost their liberty ; yet they knew not precisely how, 
nor when : but lost, it certainly was, in the days of 



[ 175 ] 

Marius and Sylla. M. Bruttis, sometime after, en- 
terprised tlie liberty of his country, but it was too 
late. Lacedemon offers a similar remark. Lycur- 
gus established what might then be called freedom ; 
but after a few centuries, neither Agis nor Cle- 
omenes could renovate departed principles. 

I will also instance the Reformation: This hap- 
pened at a period fortunate for the people. The 
Catholic religion, when it has its proper operation, is 
an effeminate religion, and tends to precocious 
civilization. Had the English continued, until 
now, Roman catholics, they would have been 
much weaker chara6lers, than they are at present. 
But though the Reformation strengthened the na- 
tional chara6\er of the English, yet a change of re- 
ligion, in any country, will awaken the most fero- 
cious passions, unless there be an absolute tolera- 
tion without political restri6\ion and disability. 
The injuries, which the dissenters, who are one fifth 
part of the nation, have suffered from the Church of 
England, and on the other hand, the hard feelings 
which the churchmen indulge against the dissent- 
ers, have given an impression little favourable to 
the English charadler. 

Political dissensions, which have been urged fur- 
ther in England, than among any other people, ex- 
cept the Guelphs and the Ghebbelms, have also serv. 



[ 176 j 

td to renckr this people barbarians in the eyes of for- 
eigners. 

The decapitation of Charles, the usurpation of 
Cromwell, and the consequences of the abdication of 
James, all had their efFecl. It is unnecessary to re- 
vert so far back as the days of York and Lancaster. 

Their inhuman code of criminal law, in the opin- 
ion of foreigners, is little favourable to the English 
chara^er. If we reason only from their criminal 
laws, without reference to the state of society, it 
would be a fair conclusion, that the English are ci- 
ther the ivvrst, or most barbarous, people on earth. 
They have very humanely abolislied torture — but 
they have adopted deatli. Their liiumanity cannotcn- 
dure the broken arm, the lacerated body, the quiver- 
ing flesh of the criminal ; but a simple hanging aftecls 
them as little as the loss of a sheep, a siorry horse, or 
forty shillings. I have heard Erskine laboriously ad- 
dress a jury, in presence of the Chief Justice of Eng- 
land, in behalf of five pounds : yet if a man's life be 
at stake, whatever may be the palliating circum- 
stances, no counsel is allowed die felon, lest the ju- 
ry, more humane than the law, should be driven in- 
to compassion. Incredible ! 

The commonalty of the English certainly have a 
most ferocious appearance : but as far as I have 
observed, it is only an external habit. We cannot 



[ 177 3 

€xpe6l the deportment of those, who bear the whole 
weight of society, should be so engaging, or their 
countenances so rounded with complacency, or 
their dispositions so placid, as if they spent their 
lives without the pressure of daily anxiety. If two 
men have originally the same features, different pur- 
suits will so entirely change their physiognomies, that 
Lavater would have classed them in different orders. 
Another pursuit might have converted the hard fea- 
tures and sallow complexion of the lawyer, to the 
round lineament and ruddy glow of the bishop.* 

In fine, a people, who have suffered so many im- 
pressions as have the English, cannot have a nicely 
distinct chara6ler ; they will be likely to have all 
the airs of freemen, like the senators of Tiberius, 
with the conduQ of slaves ; and to those, who are 
both slaves in their manners and actions, the En- 
glish will seem barbarians : — yet these barbarians 
have been governed by women, and were quiet sub- 
jects under pettycoat government. 

There are only two marks in England of a very 
barbarous people. The first concerns the inhabit- 
ants of London, and the other great cities only ; a 
large portion of whom burro^v under ground, and 



* Tlxe business men are chiefly conversant in, does not only give a certain 
turn to their minds, but is very often apparent in their outward behaviour. 

Spixtator, No, I97< 



[ 178 ] 

spend their days below the surface of the earth. 
This is owing to their want of accommodation, 
which obliges them to convert their cellars into kitch- 
ens. The other concerns the ladies only ; like 
many barbarous people they paint, but with this 
difference, the one, to look like angels, the other, to 
look like the devil. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXVI. 



LOifDOK' APRIL 39th, 

1 HE English ordinaries and eating houses 
offer an inexhaustible source of observation on the 
national character and manners. You meet not on- 
ly with all descriptions of London people, but like- 
wise with French, Irisli, Scotch and country people ; 
and you may choose your company, from the most 
humble to the most exalted ; that is, you may 
choose the price of your dinner, from sixpence to a 
guinea. You are not troubled with the least cere- 
mony; if you wish for nothing more than a dinner, 
you have only to enter these places, hang up your 
hat, or keep it on your head, sit down, look at your 
bill of fare, call for your dinner, pay for it, and walk 
off. 

A Londoner, generally, enters the room and ob- 
serves nobody, plants himself at table in a dead posi- 
tion, breaks his bread in halves, ivitb an air, falls to, 
says not a word during his dinner, which he eats 
rather slowly, yet swallows too quickly for his 
health, rises from table in resolute reserve, and re- 
tires from the room as he would from a cavern. 



V [ 180 ] 

The Frenchman, on the contrary, makes a general 
bow when he enters, no matter who the company 
are, carefully hangs up his hat, sits down and ad- 
justs himself, cuts his bread in two or three pieces^ 
eats his dinner rapidly, sits a little while, converses, 
and retires with a general bow. 

If you are willing tamake an effort, j'ou may of- 
ten engage a Londoner in conversation, especially, 
if he thinks you are a grade above him, otherwise he 
may regard you as an impertinent. The Scotch, 
Irish, and country people are more sociable at table, 
the country people from curiosity, the Scotch with 
a view to information, the Irish, frequently, from a 
love to rhodomontade. 

However reserved and disaffected people may be, 
they never so fairly lay themselves open, as at their 
meals. The pagan gods and goddesses never so op^ 
enly betrayed their origin from human creation, as 
they did at their jovial feasts of Ne6lar and Ambro-- 
sia. At table, the divine forgets his system, the 
physician his last fatal experiment, and the lawyer 
no longer casts his side glance at his neighbour's 
pocket. All being on an equality at these places, 
those who are disposed, feel no embarrassment in 
giving themselves up to their natural chara6ler. 
The most grave will sometimes be induced to for- 
get their affe6lation, while those who claim their par- 



[ 181 ] 

entage from Mercury, and hold to the Duke est dis- 
sipere in loco, desire no better place to worship the 
god, than these liberal institutions afford. Not 
knowing that they shall ever see each other again, 
they scarcely feel responsible for their sentiments, 
and hence, they sport their opinions on men and 
things, and not unfrequendy throw out, as though 
by chance, dubious, yet favourite notions, in order 
to ascertain their probable currency with the world. 
If you wish to study human nature, you can see 
it all alive, if you are willing to adapt yourself. 
There is not a grade in society with which you may 
not familiarise ; but then it is necessary to have a va- 
rious and extensive wardrobe, otherwise you will 
forever miss your obje6l. Under the late adminis- 
tration, the Venetian custom of spying out people's 
opinions was adopted ; so that every man was jeal- 
ous of his company. It is not exa611y so now, 
though I have more than once been shocked with 
the remains of this poison of social intercourse. 
Figure to yourself a party of strangers, flung back in 
their chairs, in all the security of good humour and 
ingenuous remark, struck dumb on the entrance of 
a person suspeiSled for a pointer of government, 
commissioned to scent out sedition. You would 
imagine the Roman delators revived again. Had I 
been in London during certain late years, I should 



[ 182 J 

nave felt myself at Venice, and should never have 
passed Cold Bath Fields, without being reminded 
of the Inquisition. How different in the United 
States ! If a person dislikes the administration of 
government, he says so, in the open market, in the 
public streets, in popular assemblies, nay more, a 
custom which I disapprove, in the pulpit, in those 
places dedicated to divine harmony ! If his abuse be 
mingled with any sort of reason, it is listened to, if 
purely scurrilous, it is only laughed at, and rendered 
harmless by inattention. In a good government, 
seditious infection is never dangerous ; it is not 
contagious ; it cannot find matter on which to ope- 
rate ; its dissipation, rarifies, cleanses or annihi- 
lates it. 

The same person, if he choose, in the course of a 
week, may parade Bond Street in the morning* be- 
tween the hours of three and four in the afternoon, 
gamble in the evening with knights and noblemen, 
shew himself at Hungerford's, and discourse of re- 
doubts, battles, sieges, or broadsides, captures and 
prize money, shift his dress, and dine and dance 
with the beggars in St. Giles', look in at the Stock 
Exchange Coffee House, and affe6l the man of busi- 



* Those who are termed Rond Street Lonngsn consider midday, midnight, 
hence, three o'c'.ock in the afternoon is early dawn : these gentlemen are frugal it-. 
one respeil, they save their breakfasts. 



[ 183 ] 

ness, or go to Wapping, be entertained for sixpence, 
and pass himself off for an accomplished sailor. 

No wonder the London wits should write good 
comedies, they can pick up a chara6\er every day, 
and if they are at a loss for a whole character, they 
can readily put together two halves : a stockjobber 
and a politician will always make an excellent 
knave, and if a pensioner with a courtier will not 
make a complete parasite, they can add a Lord 
Bishop. I am acquainted with a comic writer who 
told me he met a man at an ordinary who afforded 
him the hero of his most successful comedy ; but 
he cost him, he added, more than a week before he 
ould catch him, to perfection. 

If you wish to know how the petty cooks can af- 
ford to give you a dinner for sixpence or less, I will 
inform you what I learnt at Wapping, where I din- 
ed for four pence halfpenny including a farthing to 
the waiter, who was very much obliged to me. I 
was told it was the custom of the more respectable 
ordinaries and eating houses to sell their leamngs to 
the next less great houses ; these in their turn sell 
again, so nothing is lost : but part of that dinner 
which is eaten at a high price, at the west end of 
the town, perhaps, a fortnight after, is eaten at 
Wapping for four pence. Thus the delicious vi- 
ands of the rich, degenerate at length into two penny 



[ 184 ] 

broth^for the poor. This may offend a delicate 
stomach, but hunger never reasons, and as the sail- 
ors say, *' poison is killed by boiling, and what will 
not poison you, will fatten you." Some of these 
cook shops boast of more liberality than others. 
They give you a table cloth, and pewter plate, and 
spoon, and do not demand your money until you 
have dined ; while others will make you pay before 
you eat a mouthful, and will trust you with nothing 
but a wooden plate, wooden bowl, and wooden 
spoon. 

The different sorts of men with whom you meet 
at these places are remarkable. If it did not excite 
the most debasing ideas, it would be humourous to 
converse sometimes with a class of men whom you 
find at these places, whose stupid ignorance would 
disgrace a Hottentot. If they have half an idea, they 
know not enough of the English language to convey 
even that. They seem to have been born in a cockle 
shell, and have never burst their confinement. 
Locke, possibly got his opinion that the human 
mind was like a blank sheet of paper, from his 
knowledge of this description of men, whom you 
may find in every cook's shop. They are so pro- 
foundly stupid, they scarcely know whence they 
came, where they are, or whither they are going, 
Yet they frequently possess a remarkable sagacity in 



[ 185 ] 

whatever is directly conne6led with their occupa- 
tion ; a fair proof that they once had minds capa- 
ble of discernment. Therefore they ought not to be 
classed, by naturalists, as a distin6l species, thougli 
they are generally considered such, by certain pol- 
iticians. 

As you know not who your company are, you 
may be as likely to dine with a pick pocket as a 
saint. One day, after a genteel person, whose con- 
versation was very intelligent, had retired from table, 
I was asked, " If 1 knew him ?" Answering in the 
negative, I was informed, he was a reputed high- 
wayman. This will probably surprise you, but it 
ought not. In such a city as this, and in such a 
country, where, if a man is willing to brave suspi- 
cion, the law waits upon him until he affords full 
proof, a person may possibly pass the greater part of 
his life, a highwayman, and parade the public walks 
every day, and even affe6l the highest style of 
splendour, under the strongest suspicions, yet no one 
will venture to arrest him, or dare charge him with 
his crimes. Although a thousand witnesses should 
testify they were robbed, and could almost testify 
they were robbed by the prisoner, yet they must 
more than almost identify his person, which is ex- 
tremely difficult, on account of his mask ; otherwise, 
he would assuredly be acquitted. Our own criminal 
A a 



[ 186 ] 

laws are similar. The same person who informed 
meof this reputed highwayman, observed, "Most 
of them were well known to the Bow street Run- 
ners,'* that they frequently assembled together at 
known public houses, like other associated bodies, 
and that the Bowstreet Runners were on tolerable 
civil terms with them." For instance, if one of 
these Runners should demand admittance to their 
assemblies, which is frequently the case, he would 
be admitted, though treated in the most laconic 
style. Thus ; " Who do you ivant?'''' The Runner 
names the person if he sees him, who replies, " He 
will wait on hitn directly.'''' If the Runner says the 
person whom he wants is not there, " Well thcn^ off 
and be damned.''' All those of their so'ciety whom 
they lose^ they call Flats. 

Adieu. 

* officers of justice employed to pursue saspeiSled persons. 



LETTER XXVII. 



LONDOK, MAT Bth. 

PROPOSE ill this letter to answer your im- 
portant question respe6ling the constitution of the 
United States ; and to render the subje6l less te- 
dious, I shall introduce the Englisli system by way 
of comparison. 

The constitution of England is said to be the 
strongest form of government which the world has 
witnessed. This is too general : a government may 
be very strong in its political operations, and very 
weak in duration. A strong government supposes 
stabiliiy as well as energy. Otherwise, an absolute 
monarchy is the strongest of all the three original 
forms. Age, and not energy and dispatch, is the 
mark of a strong government : still, duration is not 
a sure sign of its excellence. 

It will- be worth the labour to prove the govern- 
ment of the United States as strong as that of Eng- 
land. I shall go further, and reasoning on the 
causes of revolution from the natural bias of man's 
mind, satisfy you, I believe, from analogy, from re- 
fle^tive and future probability, that the constitution 



[ 188 ] 
of the United States is even stronger, than that of 
England. 

The constitution of England is one hundred and 
eleven years old, dating from 1692. An English- 
man will probably date from the reign of King 
John : but with whatever triumph he should appeal 
to Magna Charta, the successive tyrannies, which 
the nation has experienced, down to the time of 
James the First, were still more ignominious, if 
England really had a free constitution to which to 
appeal. What check had Henry the Eighth, or 
with what reference did Elizabeth govern England ? 
Her authority was a perfe6l despotism, confessed- 
ly mild, but undefined and uncontrouled, which 
frowned down all opposition into disaffection and 
treason. James the First, though personally weak 
as the Emperor Claudius, felt himself not less abso- 
lute : and Charles the Second, had he been less a 
buffoon, might have revived the days of Henry the 
Eighth. 

The English would be wise to appeal to history 
only, in support of one dubious point ; which, if true, 
to be sure, is worthy of proud remark. *' If wc 
were once slaves, we are now free :" most people 
are tied down to the sorry reflection, " Jf we were 
once free, we are now slaves." 



[ 189 ] 

But allowing the constitution of England to be as 
old as Magna Charta, which myself would allow, 
could I find a single reason for so doing, it unfortu- 
nately proves too much ; for the repeated reiiolu- 
tions England has undergone since that period^ ar- 
gue a weakness which totally destroys e'uery pretence 
to stability. 

The constitution of England, then, is one hun- 
dred and eleven years old : that of the United States 
only fourteen. This excellency obtains with both. 
*' A change of public officers may happen in either 
country, without a revolution, or to speak more pre- 
cisely, without affe6ling the constitution. That 
this total change should occur in England, there is 
scarcely a remote possibility, because the King 
himself, agreeably to Mr. Burke's position, enjoying 
the fee simple of the British empire, ?Ln(\ his oivn 
consent being necessary to t?k&i such cliange, it 
cannot be expelled a king of Great Britain will sur- 
render his family inheritance. This change has al- 
ready happened in the United States, and succes- 
sive changes will more firmly establish the con- 
stitution. The sovereign people, perceiving how 
easily a change may be wrought, when the govt rn- 
ment is either weakly or corruptly administered, 
will not be disposed to proceed to those violences, 
necessary in England, if the original compa6l be- 



C 190 ] 

tween the people and government should be so far 
superseded as to M^arrant a revolution. . 

The constitution of England cannot be contemn 
plated, except with reference to King, Lords and 
Commons. Hence, the affe6iions of the subje6ls are 
regulated by their consideration for the reigning 
prince, the degree of respe<5l which the House of 
Lords attaches to itself, but particularly by the inde- 
pendence or facility of the House of Commons. 
Thus, the long reign of a weak prince, successive 
unpopular ministers, conne6led with an unprincipled 
House of Commons, would weaken, if not render 
contemptible, the constitution. While, in the Uni- 
ted States, the citizen contemplates the administra- 
tion without a necessary reference to the constitu- 
tion : they are two distinct things. Now, no ad. 
ministration can be long in power without becoming, 
in a certain degree, odious ; and this odium attaches 
to the constitution in the degree that a removal is 
more or less pradlicable. But the citizens of the 
United States are in no danger of this disaffection. 
There is scarcely a possibility that abuses should 
gain strength in spite of the constitution ; there is 
no danger that the first abuse will take root, perpetu- 
ate itself, and rise to enormity. In one word, the 
parliament does not so much flov/ from the consti- 
tution of England, as the constitution flows from the 



[ 191 ] 

parliament. The King, Lords and Commons are, 
in a very great degree, paramount the constitution ; 
while the constitution of the United States, is para- 
mount the congress. 

Further, the constitution of England is unwritten, 
and known only to the people by its operation. It 
has indeed been questioned if the English have any 
real constitution. Whatever is undefined cannot 
admit of reasoning. Argument may forever flutter 
round the dubious point, but can never rest. 
More than this, the most carefully worded statutes 
are frequently defeated by the ingenuity of the law- 
yers, and every new a6l of parliament extends the 
field of litigation. To what a laboured debate did 
the question of the " Judiciary^'' give rise ! Yet 
both parties constantly appealed to the first se6lion 
of the third article of the constitution, which con- 
tains but seven lines. Now, if the sagacity of the 
wise be frequently liable to wander in doubt, or 
faulter in perplexity, an unwritten constitution pri- 
ma facie ^ is much worse than none, by reason of 
its lending itself on all occasions a san^ion to parlia- 
ment. Let us confess the truth ; the English are 
the freest people in Europe. Whence does this 
arise ? From that portion of the constitution called 
the common law, which recognizes three grand 
popular prerogatives, the right of personal liberty. 



[ 192 ] 

the right of personal security, and the right of pri- 
i»ate property. The Englishman intrenched behind 
these, one might suppose, would hurl defiance to op- 
pression : but unfortunately these prerogatives are 
continually liable to be superseded by a paramount 
prerogative of the constitution. Ensure an English- 
man his common law, and he will scarcely contend 
for his constitution ; while the citizen of the Uni- 
ted States, not only reposes under the protection 
of the common law, which certainly is well calcu- 
lated for people asleep, but wakes to the poslthe 
rights of a well deifined constitution. 

The common law is founded in equality, its 
chief excellence. This sometimes gives the lowest 
of the English a dignity to which slaves have no sen- 
sibility. But the common law is barelj^ protcct- 
he, while the constitution offers litde or nothing on 
which the people may rest their fondest hopes. 
Not so the constitution of the United States ; with 
all the equality of the common law, it acls on the 
citizens as an incentive, not only to all the political, 
but also to the moral, virtues : the constitution at- 
taches nothing to family, nothing to riches, nothing 
to reflective merit. He who was born a beggar fre- 
quently arrives to a situation in which he might re- 
tort on a nobleman, " My ancestors are a disgrace 
to me ; you are a disgrace to your ancestors." 



[ 193 ] 

Hence, with the poorest, love of the constitution be- 
comes a passion, and mingles with their sentiments 
and adlions, mingles with their religion, mingles 
with their life* While in England, the most felici- 
tous and generous feelings, of which man is capable, 
are cautiously cherished, or blighted in youth. It is 
jusdy considered in the United States, that all those 
honours and riches, which descend to a great man's 
posterity, would be a direct injury to the greatest 
men in the republic. A great man founds a new 
family : but his posterity, from age to age, do not in- 
herit the rights of the great ancestor, they cannot do 
this without inheriting his ability/, but they usurp the* 
natural rights of some other man, equally* great 
with the founder of the family, but who has been 
necessarily excluded, by reason of hereditary suc- 
cession, because rewards and honours in every state 
must be restricted within certain bounds. It is not 
for me to determine who, but some one of the no- 
bility in England possesses the natural rights of 
Home Tooke, and some other, those of William 
Windham, t 



* If every century produces an equal number of great men, this is precisely ti-ue. 

t If natural ability be frequently perverted in England, it is the fault of the con- 
stitution. A great plebeian must either be hung, pensioned or titled. Tooke nearly 
underwent the former fate : Windham more fortunate was made Secretary at War. 

I embrace this opportunity of offering my esteem to one of the greatest, wisesti 
best, and most injured men in England. Home Tooke has ever laboured under a most 
disgracrful and multiform oppression, which has freiiuently ended in the basest exer- 



Bb 



[ 194 ] 

I will illustrate : If the first characters in tlie Uni- 
ted States should be ennobled, the offices of honour 
and emolument would naturally flow from them to 
their heirs. In cases of emergency, indeed, if the 
descendants were not equal to great occasions, ne- 
cessity would compel government to produce the 
plebeian great. Hence, in England, you find a 
Chatham, a Hardwicke, a Smith, and a Duncan, 
nobiliores 'oirifactis quam generc. But had the re- 
mote relations of the nobility been barely competent, 
these great men would have sunk under the ascend- 
ency of those who so frequently, in England, rise like 
air balloons, and pretty much on the same principle, 
for want of weight. Now, if the heirs of this nobil- 
ity were permitted to represent their great ancestors, 
long before they had arrived to the age of thirty- 
years, there would be an equal number of men 
great as the ancestors of these heirs, most of whom, 
both for themselves and society, had better have 
been born idiots. Hence, every noble sentiment 
of which plebeians are susceptible would be early 
suppressed, or, if indulged, would be more likely to 
lead to disgrace than to usefulness. The citizen of 
the United States has nothing to fear from this usur- 
pation ; on the contrary, the refledlion that his chih 

tions of his enemies. Unfortunate man ! Had destiny cast your lot on our shores., y oti 
would have been revered while living, as much as you yet will be when dtad. 



[ 195 ] 

dren start in the race of life at the same moment 
^vith their contemporaries, and the assurance that 
their merits will not be overshaded and blasted by 
the upas of hereditary usurpation, open to him new 
sources of existence, and insure the parental du- 
ties ; hence, the child is educated in love to that 
constitution, under which he wantons in youthful 
perspective ; and hence, the strength of our govern- 
ment consists in tliat, only, which is competent to 
its destru6lion. 

Whatever may be the power of a state, however 
prompt the executive, and however inexhaustible 
the treasury, without the affedlions of the people, 
all is false, all hollow, all artificial. In vain do they 
nail up their authority on every post, if they do not 
attach the heart. In vain will a few purchased 
voices cry, Long live King Richard ! In one night 
Pelopidas overturned a tyranny. In the height of 
his power, Dyonisius found himself deserted in Syr- 
acuse. Huic tantds tempestati quum se consuks ob- 
tuUssent^ facile experti stint^ parmn tiitam majesta- 
tem sine "oiribus esse.* 

Let us suppose a case. If a revolution should be 
enterprised in the United States, who would be the 
a6lors, to whom would they apply, and what meth- 
od would they adopt ? Would they, like Catiline, 

* Livy, 



[ 196 ] 

address the people, Nobis reliquerunt pericula^ re^ 
pulsasjjudicia, egestatem. Quae quousque tandem 
patiemini fortissimi viri ? Nonne emori prsestat, 
quam vitam miseram, atqiie inhonestam per dede- 
cus amittere ? — Etenim quis mortalium cui virile 
ingenium est, tolerare potest, illis dhitias supera- 
re, quas profundant, in extruendo mari, et monti- 
bus cosequandis, nobis rem familiarem etiam ad ne^ 
cessariam deesse ? illos binas, aut amplius domos, 
continuare : nobis larem familiarem nusquam ullum 
esse. Or would they apply to the rich, and attempt 
to weaken their confidence, by explaining the little 
consideration which the constitution attaches to 
wealth, by an odious equality, which bereaves the 
pride of affluence of half its importance, or more 
successfully, by future grandeur, by the charms of 
aristocracy, and the self complacence of hereditary 
succession ? What a singular paradox ! The con- 
spirators would cautiously avoid every man, that is, 
the great body of the people, who laboured their 
bread by personal industry, and would fly from all 
those who enjoyed a golden competency. Singular 
paradox ! The rich alone would be a6tors in the 
revolution, and the poor,* the supporters of gov^ 



* Rich and Poor are convertible terms : therefore, in every country, there 
will be rich and poor. But poverty, in the European meaning of the word, does 
not fin4 a place in the United States. 



t 197 1 

crnment ! On one side you would see only those 
whose ambition had overstepped the modesty of na- 
ture, and whose riches had only added to their rest- 
lessness ; on the other, the great mass of the citi- 
zens, who knowing that a revolution would not 
benefit them, but terminate in aristocracy, would 
support the constitution as the grand pillar of their 
own consequence. Hence, the constitution is 
strong as natural affeclion, and durable as self inter- 
est. It destroys some of the worst, and enlists in 
its support some of the best, passions of which hu- 
man nature is susceptible. It lops off the efficient 
cause of revolution, and impels to patriotism. It is 
founded in popular feeling, and is considered by the 
people as part of their property, as part of their 
blood, as part of their very life : and hence y its 
strength consists in that alone, lahich is competent to 
its destruction. 

You are now prepared, I believe, for the following 
maxim, That a re'uolution cannot hap pen ^ until it 
ought to happen. This is founded in human feel- 
ing, and bottomed on the broad base of experience. 
A people blessed with a good government, are them- 
selves the surest pledges of its support. Need I ap- 
peal to Sparta, Athens, Rome ? confessedly the 
best and most durable governments of antiquity. 
The long continuance of despotic power proves 



[ 198 ] 

nothing: where the will of the prince governs, his 
violent death is a perfect revolution, although his 
successor be equally absolute. Thus, absolute 
monarchies will be found, by consulting history, to 
have undergone more frequent revolutions, than re- 
publics. Hence, governments have ever been 
found to be weak in the degree they have been abso- 
lute. A great prince, indeed, may, during his life, 
give the impression of durability to his operations ; 
but his successor usually discovers the inanity of 
authority without personal character. At this mo- 
ment, I should be obliged to consult history to 
know who were the successors of Alexander, Char- 
lemagne, or Alfred the Great. 

In no instance, within the notice of history, have 
the people hazarded a revolution prematurely. 
They have indeed attempted many too late. But it 
is chara6\eristic of every body of men in subjection, 
to suffer long, before they appeal to the last resort. 
The enterprise demands such an effort, such vigour, 
such a degree of secrecy and consistency, that most 
people are already slaves, before they tell it to each 
other. They hear each other's chains clank before 
they seem to feel the weight of their own. Yet it is 
a favourite declamation with the pupils of that 
school which Mr. Burke opened in perspedlive of a 
Lordship, that there is no political monster but the 
people — no tyrant but the multitude. 



[ 199 ] 

Now, if a revolution cannot happen, until it ought 
to happen, the strength of the constitution of the 
United States is preeminent over all other forms of 
government. There are not sufficient materials 
wherewith to work a revolution. It is not in human 
extravagance to a^ without an object of a6lion ; 
and happily the most dangerous passions are ren- 
dered inefficient or made subservient. Ambition, 
indeed, on the wings of the eagle, may soar to the 
pure empyrean, but unless its objedl be heavenly, 
it must descend to prey on its own carcass. The 
constitution has not only expelled every humour 
which might injure the habit, but has lopped off 
every excrescence which might fret the body. 
Nor is this all ; its regenerative spirit, at every short 
interval, reverts back to youth, and gives it an im- 
mortal hue, so that the principle of revolution is part 
of the system. 

The produ6live causes of revolution are restric- 
tion and disability on one part, and usurpation on 
the other. In the latter particular our constitution 
has nothing to fear : the first step of usurpation is its 
last. Nor has the constitution more to fear from re- 
stri6lion and disability. It remained for the people 
of the United States to exhibit the happiest sight 
which philosophy ever witnessed. The extremities 
of all the religions in the world might meet together 



[ 200 ] 

in a circle. Incredibile memoratu est quam facile co- 
aluerint.* Hence, unlimited toleration, incapaci- 
tated with no political disability ^ no inmdious exclu- 
sion^ not only teaches the citizens either to respect 
each other's opinions, or regard them with indiffer- 
ence, but strengthens the government by lopping off 
one principal, exciting cause of revolution. Should 
the constitution of England be threatened, the surly 
dissenters, to say the least, would either sit with 
their arms akimbo, in triumph, or folded up in a 
sort of anxious indifference. 

It is the property of most governments to grow 
strong by usurping on the rights of the people : and 
when the executive, like the northern whirlpool, 
seizes on and swallows up every thing within its 
reach, then the government lays claim to dignity 
and energy. But this strength is as baseless as an in- 
verted pyramid, or like the water spout, which, in the 
moment of its greatest strength and towering pride, 
finds its level with the ocean. The government of 
England partakes, in a considerable degree, of the 
nature of the northern whirlpool, in that it has seized 
on and swallowed up the rights of the dissenters, 
and has moreover weakened itself in proportion to 
their strength. It is like the inverted pyramid, in 
that its chief strength, built originally on the canon 

• SaHust, 



[ 201 3 

law, partially ameliorated, and on the feudal system, 
partially corre6led, flows from the head, and not 
from the heart of the social compa6l : like the water 
spout, in that its abuses, for want of an efFe61:ual 
regenerative principle, are in danger of accumulating 
until they rise to a pitch of enormity which nat- 
urally cures itself. 

On the contrary, the constitution of the United 
States is founded in natural strength, in popular 
right, in popular afFeiStion, and may be amended 
and even new modelled without danger of a revo- 
lution. Such a government will probably possess 
all possible good, witb least possible euil. 

In short, a monarch, a hereditary nobility, an es- 
tablished church, are supposed here to be the foun- 
dation of government. In the United States, they 
are considered as pompous titles, imposing names, 
usurpations : nay more, that legitimate government 
cannot exist under them. Hence, it will be found 
a more difiicult enterprise to introduce, than to o^uer- 
turn such a system. Most other governments orig- 
inated in chains and slavery : ours originated in 
freedom : in the former case, the weak have to con- 
tend against the strong, and every unsuccessful ef- 
fort, renders the weak still weaker, the strong, still 
stronger ; and unless the spirit of freedom should 
inspire the people, or the tyranny should be intol- 
c 



im 



[ 202 3 

erable, even to slaves, there is no remedy. In the 
latter case, the confliSl is only defenshe ; guard the 
sacred fire, and freedom must be coexistent with 
the principle. 

Were the United States like ancient Carthage, or 
like England or Holland, we should soon look back 
with regret, on what we once were : but being an 
agricultural, rather than a commercial, people, we 
shall be enabled, in spite of commercial aristocracy, 
to preserve the constitution in its most wholesome 
state ! The agricultural will happily swallow up the 
commercial influence ; and even if commerce 
should ruin both the Atlantic and Pacific shores, 
there will still be ample space between, for liberty 
to range in. Poverty, misery and slavery, when 
they find a residence in the United States, will first 
seat themselves in the capitals of the Atlantic, and 
may advance a little way into the interior, but in 
vain will they endeavour to trespass on the freehold- 
ers. The wings of our eagle, sitting on the great 
range of mountains, if not large enough to cover 
both the Adantic and Pacific, will still shield the 
freeborn, brave and hardy sons.of the soil. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXVIII. 



LONDON, MAT isth. 

Imagine to yourself a man of short stature, 
who has just past the prime of life, whose broad 
high forehead is fast retreating to baldness, but 
whose ruddy, thoughtful, yet open countenance dis- 
covers both the temperature of health and philoso- 
phy : of manners remarkably mild, unassuming, 
rather reserved; in conversation cautious, argu- 
mentative, frequently doubtful, yet modestly court- 
ing reply, more from a desire of truth, than a love 
of contending ; in his family, affectionate, cordial, 
accommodating ; to his friends confidential, ready 
to make any sacrifice ; to his enemies — you would 
never know from Mr. Godwin that he had ^n 
enemy. 

Mr. Godwin lives at Sommerstown, about three 
miles from the city. His house with us would be 
considered neat and simple ; here it is called a cot- 
tage. His study is small, and looks into the coun- 
try, his library not extensive, yet sufficiently large 
for a man who depends more on his own resources, 
than on the labours of others. The portrait of 



[ 204 ] 

Mary, taken by Northcote, hangs over the fire place. 
This rendered the study one of the most interesting 
places I ever visited. Though I have frequently 
been in the study, I have only ventured to look at 
the portrait. Mr. Godwin is since married to a 
charming woman, who seems devoted to domestic 
happiness. He is at present occupied with his 
Geo fry Chaucer^ a work of great expectation. 

A billet from Mr. Godwin informed me this 
morning, that Mr. Holcroft and Dr. Wolcott would 
dine there to day. 

Mr. Holcroft, though nearly sixty, has suifered 
nothing, either from years, laborious mental exer- 
tion, or persecution. He has all the activity and 
vivacity of youth. Just returned from the conti- 
nent, whither he had voluntarily banished himself 
in complaisance to the wishes of the English gov- 
ernment, he has brought back with him not the 
least resentment. Persecution, instead of imbitter- 
ing his disposition, has had that effe61:, which it has 
on all good men. A villain will always hate man- 
kind in proportion to his knowledge of the world ; 
a good man, on the contrary, will increase in philan- 
thropy. 

Literature is not a little honoured, when one of 
her votaries, leaving a mechanical employment at a 
period of life when habit is usually become nature, 



[ 205 ] 

has successfully holden the pen and realised a hand- 
some support. Still more charming is it to see her 
votaries giving proofs of the strongest friendship. 
Holcroft and Godwin are firm friends. A striking 
likeness of the former, by Northcote, is in the din- 
ing room. 

Dr. Wolcott,in appearance, is a genuine John Bull, 
and until he opens his mouth, you would little sus- 
pe^ his relationship to the poet of Thebes. He is a 
portly man, rather unwieldy, and I believe not in 
haste to leave his chair when he is pleased with his 
seat. He is hastening to old age, and seems dispos- 
ed to make the most of life he can. There is little 
similarity of chara6\er between Wolcott and God- 
win. They are both constant in mental exertion ; 
but the one prefers to sit on a silver cloud, and be 
wafted through the four quarters of the world, look- 
ing down on all the varieties of nature, and the fol- 
lies of man. The other, possessed of the nicest 
moral feelings, loves to envelope himself in darkness 
and abstraction, in order to contemplate whatever is 
just, fit or useful. The one, laughing, dressed in 
the gaiety of spring, enters society with the pruning 
hook ; the other, more serious, labours with the 
ploughshare. Holcroft, who never began to think 
until his reasoning powers had come to maturity, 
owing to a negle6t of education, embarrassed by no 



C 206 ] 

system, follows the didates of his own mind, and if 
he is sometimes erroneous, the error is all his own, 
it is never a borrowed error. Hence, his conversa- 
tion, embellished by the variety of hfe which he has 
seen, is rendered rich, brilliant, original and im- 
pressive. 

It is singular, but I beheve old age is more dis- 
posed to egotism, and more open to flattery, than 
youth. I can account for it only from their fond- 
ness for the past, and a certain kind of jealousy nat- 
ural to old age. But a man like Wolcott, and a poet 
too, whose society has been courted as much as his 
works have been read, will naturally, in the com- 
pany of friends frequently find in himself a subject 
for conversation ; nor is this in the least displeasing. 
Those are always the greatest egotists who are 
most offended with the egotism of others. Wolcott 
seemed delighted with the following anecdote re- 
spedling certain of his works. He said the ministry 
had it in contemplation to prosecute him for a libel ; 
and when the good policy of the prosecution was 
questioned, the gracious LordThurlow, to whom he 
owed great obligation^ rose, and asked his fellows. If 
they ivere sure the jury would condemn him ? and on 
the surmise of a mere doubt, Thurlow said. He 
would be d — d then, if it was expedient to pros- 
ecute. But I was struck with surprise and horror. 



[ 207 ] 

when Mr. Godwin informed me, the ministry once 
had it on the carpet to prosecute the Political Jus- 
lice. I took occasion on this to ask him how long he 
had devoted himself to literature before he was 
known to the world ? He replied, It was ten years 
before he was known as an author. This ought to 
inspire the persevering with new ardour. 

Wolcott, like most men of genius, has a contempt 
for mere scholars, who, walking on the stilts of ped- 
antry, imagine themselves a head taller, than other 
folks. The talents of a certain famous man being 
questioned, Wolcott observed, He was not a man of 
genius, but a man of great capacity, and said, if we 
would attend to him, he would distinguish between 
the learned man, the man of capacity^ and the man 
oi genius. — "Here," said he, " we will suppose a 
quantity of coins, ducats, pistoles, dollars, guineas, 
on this table. The learned man will be able, after 
thumbing his dictionaries for half an hour, to tell you 
the names of these coins in all languages. The man 
of capacity will go further and tell you the value of 
each, and the amount of the whole together, with ev- 
ery thing relative to their use, difference of exchange 
and origin. But who invented these coins ? The 
man of genius." This gave general satisfaBion. 
However, it was replied, and I thought very justly. 
That unless the man of genius should acquire ca- 



[ 208 ] 

pacity, his genius without capacity would be less 
useful, than capacity without genius. For, the ex- 
ertion of genius is rare. God does not every day 
create a world : and although genius may claim a 
higher prerogative, than capacity, they are mutually 
indebted to each other. If genius gives employ to 
capacity, not unfrequently does capacity give direc- 
tion and result to genius. 

Adieu, 



LETTER XXIX. 



LONDON, MAT 24//;. 

JL AM conscious how much I hazard in the 
present letter ; but the preceding notices on the 
English character, which I have offered, will dis- 
pose you to consider this, a commentary, rather than 
a di<Slate of my own authority. 

Those various prerogatives, which the English 
claim to themselves, above all other people, might 
induce a stranger to suppose, they would fling them- 
selves back in their easy chairs, and either deride, 
or despise all those, who w^ere not self-dependent, 
self-supported, and regardless of the opinions of ev- 
ery*- body. Yet these self poised charaiSlers, I am 
inclined to believe, sacrifice more to their foolish 
passions, than any other people. This can only be 
illustrated by instances taken from real life. 

It is obvious that, in proportion as a country is 
free, its people will discover a variety of passions ; 
while the ease and safety, with which they may be 
indulged, will lead many to most preposterous 
lengths ; and while the man is ruining himself, his 
obstinacy of perseverance will increase to the last : 
Dd 



[ 210 ] 

the same spirit which first incited, propels hhn for- 
ward. He will esteem it more honourable to floun- 
der in desperation, than to stop midway in his career : 
maluit patrati, quam incepti f acinar is reus, esse* 
His passion a6ls in a circle, finds no end, but still 
progresses in degrees. The poor, in proportion to 
their means, will be in danger of low pleasures, or 
what is not less ruinous, they will sacrifice to a , 
hopeless emulation. 

I think it necessary to premise this, in order to 
preserve a degree of verisimilitude among so many 
inconsistent traits as are discoverable among the 
English. 

I have frequently thought, if such a man as Fab- 
ricius should visit England, he would leave the peo- 
ple with sentiments little to their honour. He 
would discover, that poverty was not only consider- 
ed the greatest evil, but a species of crime. He 
would perceive a disposition to exchange fame, hap- 
piness, even principle, for worldly appearance and 
the inglorious reputation of riches : nay more, that 
the poor enjoyed a transient happiness in being 
thought affluent. 

Zimmerman, you know, in speaking of the dif- 
ferent observations which different nations make on 
strangers, does the English the superior honour 



[ 211 ] 

to attribute to them this liberal chara6leristic. 
*' JVhat sort of a man is that .?" The praise, which 
this supposes, may, for aught I know, be compara- 
lively just : but certain it is, if the English ever do 
respe6l a poor man, it must be under a singular cir- 
cumstance, for they only cease to respect themselves 
in the degree they approach povertj^ : and such a 
horror have they of the suspicion of indigence, that 
they become prodigal to counterfeit affluence, and 
insure future, through fear of present, distress. 
The coward, who killed himself, lest he should be 
killed by the enemy, was not more ridiculous. 

The truth is, I have noticed it before, the English 
attach to themselves a wonderful degree of conse- 
quence : they will naturally do this, in comparing 
themselves with the slaves of Europe. But they 
unfortunately experience, unless they possess tlie 
talents of a Burke or a Sheridan, that personal 
worth commands no respe6l without a certain style 
of appearance : and this necessary appearance, with 
all classes, except that which is abandoned to hope- 
less wretchedness, is rated far above their ability. 
Hence, it may easily be credited, that the English 
are generally extravagant, frequently desperate, and 
always unhappy : for no people descend to misfor- 
tune with less dignity, than the English. The fear- 
ful calm which precedes despair, or the headlong 



[ 212 ] 

impetuosity of Niagara, seizes the unhappy English- 
man. His native frankness forbids him to suppress 
his feelings : from far you hear the brewing storm. 

If they possessed the real spirit of independence, 
they might still retain all their pride, but they would 
discover it in a very different manner. Indeed, 
they sometimes assert their independent spirit, in de- 
voting themselves to mad pursuits, but whether 
they be governed by whim or madness, they would 
feel themselves disgraced, if they indulged their ca- 
price or madness at less expense, than they could 
their sober senses. He who is fantastic is easily 
tolerated; but if he is singular merely to save ex- 
pense, he instantly becomes contemptible. 

This unhallowed attachment to wealth does not 
spring from the miser passion of possessing proper- 
ty : but rather from a consciousness that its dissipa- 
tion affords the surest means of gratification. They 
are not remarkable for being alieni appetentes, but 
only profusi siiorum : yet the profusi suorum are 
nearly related to the allcni appetentes. 

If you descend to real life, you will find this same 
spirit operating through all the relations of society. 
In presence of this influence, moral fitness, natural 
justice and social feeling are all annihilated. From 
the august tribunal of the Lord Chief Justice, down to 
a petty Court of Requests, from the Secretary of State 



[ 213 ] / 

to his humblest retainer, or from the magnificent 
merchant down to a haberdasher of small wares, 
all, all is in counteraction to the proud principles of 
tlieir constitution. No people are more ready, at the 
theatre, to applaud the fine sentiment, " Who steals 
my purse, steals trash.''^ This still passes in a 
court of honour, and it passes in the theatre, when 
retired from real life, the people forget themselves : 
but I have never heard it quoted at Guildhall, nor at 
Westminster. The filching of a good name, and 
the stealing of a purse, would conduct to very dif- 
ferent tribunals : and the damaging of another six- 
pence in purse, and sixpence in reputation, would 
terminate in very different consequences. The sen- 
timent of Shylock is more just : " If you spare my 
life, spare my property, for that is life." In general, 
the spirit of law discovers the spirit of a nation. 
But England is an exception. The English laws 
destroy all distin6lion in the several gradations of 
crime. This would puzzle a foreigner, ignorant of 
the English character. He would either pronounce 
the English to be more attached to property, than 
to life or reputation, or conclude them a nation of 
of thieves. At the Old Bailey, I saw a wretch cap- 
itally convicted for stealing a ragged pocket hand- 
kerchief, while the humane judge, feeling the hard- 
ship of the case, questioned the prosecutor, " If he 



[ 214 ] 

Was in the least degree sensible of missing it, at the 
time, or immediately after the time, /or if he felt it 
go from his pockety the felony was not capital. 
Sometimes the jury, to save a man from the gallows, 
will generously perjure themselves. They are in 
the frequent habit of reckoning two for one, at the 
Old Bailey, except when specie is stolen ; they are 
then obliged to value two pounds at forty shillings ; 
though I have heard the judge condole with the ju- 
ry, that there was no system of arithmetic which 
vi^ould warrant their computing three guineas at one 
pound nineteen shillings. 

I am not sure if it be candid to attribute their un- 
equal laws to their intemperate regard for property. 
Yet I have laboured in vain to find a less dishonour- 
able reason. Commercial people, we all know, will 
render law as offensive as they possibly can, to oth- 
ers, and as defensive, as they can, to themselves. 
But the same spirit seems to run through the whole 
system of English law, whether relative to com- 
merce, or to the landed interest. If you ask the 
merchant, " What he considers the greatest crime," 
he might possibly say, murder, but he would mean 
forgery : on the other hand, should you ask the 
country squire the same question, he too might pos- 
sibly say murder, but he would mean the murder of 
one of his hares. 



^ 



[ 215 ] 

Few crimes, in this country, are thought to be 
highly criminal, so long as property is secure. 
One would suppose that the forcible amputation of 
a man's ears or nose was a greater crime, than the 
stealing of one of his sheep : but the fa6l is, a man's 
ears and nose are not essential members, nor sub- 
je6ls of trade : otherwise, if a man's ears or nose 
were soused, like a hog's feet and ears, the law in 
this respe6l, would change from a chil process to a 
felony. If you steal the only child of a fond parent, 
the law is silent : but if you steal the child's clothes, 
you commit a felony. I was present at a trial of 
this sort, on which the prisoner was acquitted, it not 
appearing sufficiently evident that he stole the child 
with a 'view to steal the clothes. 

The same spirit influences the public administra- 
tion of affairs. The subje6l is imddious ; j^et suffi- 
ciently notorious. Public offices are not sold at 
vendue, but it is well known they may be purchas- 
ed. You frequently see in the most celebrated 
newspapers, advertisements, offering certain sums, 
" To any lady or gentleman who can command suf- 
ficient parliamentary interest to procure the writer 
a public office, with a specified salary" — promising 
the most profound secresy ! I confess, I had so 
much simplicity, when I first saw such an adver- 
tisement, I thought it an excellent joke. I am now 



[ 216 ] 

fully persuaded that, public offices may be purchas- 
ed, if you know where to apply. But Mr. Adding- 
ton is the last man to whom I would recommend a 
suitor : he would suffer a certain disappointment. 
The following singular circumstance passed within 
my own observation. 

An honest fellow, in the west of England, with 
more money, thancorre6l knowledge of the world, 
had doubtless heard that public offices were sold in 
London, as well as loans and state lotteries. A valu- 
able sinecure in his neighbourhood becoming va- 
cant, he wished to purchase it for his son. In full 
expectation of the office, he applied to the Chancel- 
lor of the Exchequer^ promising him two thousand 
pounds. The simple man had no idea of bribing 
the Minister of State, and was not a little frightened 
when told his proceeding was not exa6lly regular. 
Mr. Addington prosecuted the man for an attempt 
at bribery ; and he was convi6led. But the judges, 
much to their honour, feeling the merit of the case, 
imposed the small fine of one hundred pounds. — 
They were obliged to convict liim, otherwise Mr. 
Addington must have paid the costs. 

In this instance, the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
did not shew himself the great man. Had there 
never been an office sold in England, public virtue 
might have exacted this from Mr. Addington : but 



[ 217 ] 

England is not early Rome, though Mr. Addington 
may be Cato the Censor. It would have been more 
magnanimous in the Chancellor to have written 
back a gentle reprimand, attributing the man's of- 
fers to ignorance. But this prosecution was as ill 
timed as a similar one would have been, at that pe- 
riod of Rome, when Jugurtha departed from the 
city, with a certain famous exclamation. 

In common life, so much is attributed to the rep- 
utation of riches, that you meet with few men, who 
would not be happy to pass themselves off for ten 
thousand pounds. This shews itself in the style of 
appearance and manners of the people. Understand 
me ; I do not impute this, so much to a passion for 
property as a fondness for appearance. To this, 
the old men are an exception. They are the same 
in all countries : no wonder if he, who has outlived 
the world and all his friends, believes nothing in this 
life, so substantial as money, and so durable as real 
estate. No wonder, when he can no longer lean on 
this world, and when society conspires to cast him 
off, that he considers his bag of gold his softest 
pillow. 

The first lodgings, for which I inquired, were 

shewn me by a decent looking person. I had 

scarcely entered the apartments, when he told me 

he was independent, and not in the habit of letting 

E e 



C 218 3 

lodgings, but that part of his family was in the 
country. 

I was chatting lately with a lady, newly married, 
who excused herself for a few mmutes : on her re- 
turn, I observed she was more richly dressed. I 
bantered her : she said she expe6led one of her 
husband's relations. " Well, and were you not 
dressed with perfect decency ?" *' The gentleman 
whom I expe61:," replied the lady, " would never 
have called on me again, had he seen me in that 
dress." 

You must not judge by appearances, is the most 
frequent precaution with which one meets, in Lon- 
don : and perhaps one half of the credit, w hich is 
given in this city, is due to the strength of appear- 
ance. In passing the streets, thousands will value 
you with a coup d^oeil. It is surprising to see with 
what rapidity the eyes of the passengers pass down 
a man's person, always sure to fix on that part of 
his dress, which does the person the least honour. 
A man with a hole in his stocking, will meet witli 
an insult at every step, unless the eyes of the pas- 
sengers are arrested by his waistcoat or breeches. 
Hence, some gain a false credit, while others receive 
a transient injury from every one they meet. So 
usual is it to annex a certain style of appearance to 
certain chara6lers, that where the persons are not 



[ 219 ] 

known, they are in danger of being taken for impos- 
tors. A certain innkeeper, between Oxford and 
London, had never seen, but had formed an ab- 
stra6l idea of counsellor Garrow. Unfortunately 
for Garrow, this innkeeper had decorated him with 
the trappings of a Lord Mayor, and figured to his 
imagination a person very different from plain Mr. 
Garrow. In the neighbourhood of the innkeeper, 
the carriage of Mr. Garrow breaking down, he en- 
deavoured to bargain with him for another, to pro- 
ceed to London: but the innkeeper hesitating to 
trust his own carnage for the broken one, Garrow 
unwittingly told his name. " Counsellor Garrow,'* 
replied the inkeeper, " might command any thing 
in my house, but I believe you to be an arrant im- 
postor, and will not trust you a farthing." Wheth- 
er this be true, I know not, but I heard Garrow tell 
it to embellish some case he was supporting. 

This letter has become tedious : for the present, 
adieu, and expert the remainder in my next. 



LETTER XXX. 



LONDON, JUNE ^th. 

— JN OR does glory so sensibly afte 61 the Eng- 
lish as one might imagine. If talents or valour be 
requited with money, they seem little solicitous to 
survive their bodies. Tbey eat parsley luith their 
'Victuals. The sight of this plant, so sacred with the 
ancients, affe6ls them as little as do turnips or cab- 
bages. 

There is now a ballad singer under my window, 
chaunting the praises of Nelson. The most charac- 
teristic couplet is the following. 

" Like a true British tar, he sported while a shore. 
Has spent all his money and gone to sea for more." 

Successful valour is scarcely to be censured, if 
the present command most of its attention : trap- 
pings of honour, splendour of appearance, joyful ova- 
tions, are the principal rewards of valour. Bravery 
is a common virtue ; mankind are naturally brave, 
and only become cowards when they become 
women. But the successful exertion of mind co- 
extends with time, operates through every grade of 
society, and is felt through all ages. The man, 



[ 221 ] 

whose fame is to be endless, ought to feel himself 
the first among mortals, whether, like Cleanthes, he 
works in a mill, or, like Anaxarchus, is pounded in 
a mortar. 

The glory of valour and of literature, with the 
Greeks and Romans became a passion, and melted 
them, sometimes to tears, and sometimes, deprived 
them of sleep. But I know nothing of the English, 
if the feelings of the present age are similar to those 
which influenced the great men of Greece and 
Rome. They seemed to be indued with a pure, 
etherial spirit, expansive as the light of heaven, and 
disinterested as the goddess of harvest. Even those 
who knew not how to imitate them, either paid in 
admiration, or detracted in envy. These feelings 
were, indeed, sometimes carried to excess, by the 
Stoics : but they had their origin in magnanimity : 
if a man can believe that poverty is not an evil, and 
that pleasure may be extra«Sled from pain itself, he is 
doubtless a god among men, and may trample 
temptation under his feet. 

Felix, qui potuit rerun cognoscere causas, 
Atque metus ommes, et inexorabile fatum 
Subjecit pedibus, strepitum que Acherontis avari ! 

Virgil Georg. Lib. I J. 

Can you believe it, my dear fellow, that there are 
characters here to whom Greece and Rome would 
have ere6led altars, who would feel themselves hon- 



r 222 ] 

cured ill being admitted among noblemen, whose 
chief merit, might perhaps, be traced to the herald's 
office ? What a perversion of nature, that mere 
matter should thus gain the ascendant over mind ! 

Nobler sentiments would have taught them that the 
immortal exertion of mind ought to inspire a slave, 
like Epi(Sletus, with more magnanimity, than the 
worthless court of a worthless monarch* could 
boast. How can you believe that, there are those 
in England ready to sell their names to other 
works ! 

Most of the English, I suspect, like Congreve, 
would rather be esteemed " independent gentle- 
men," than authors or philosophers, and would sell 
their tombs in Westminster Abbey, for a pair of 
buckskin breeches. f I might illustrate this with 
numerous instances, but they are too well known to 
you, and disgraceful to the republic of letters. 

The cause of this debasement of human dignity 
might easily be pursued : republics and monarch- 
ies will ever discover the human mind under differ- 
ent aspe6ls. Under the former, an Aristippus will 
be an exception : under the latter, a Wollstone- 
craft and a John James Rousseau will be excep- 
tions. It might be worth the labour to pursue this 

• Nero, under whom Epidletus flourished. 

t Thes« iure ui the fashion, both in sooiaicrand vfinMr. 



r 223 ] 

inquiry from the time of the philosophers, who 
flourished while the republics of Greece were in 
full vigour, to the period of the sophists, when lib- 
erty began to decline, thence down to the pander 
authors, who sprung up under the thousand petty 
monarchies. It would appear that tlie government 
of Greece, through all its various stages, from liber- 
ty to slavery, produced its like. Pliilosophers 
flourished with liberty, sophists, on its decline, and 
an abandoned set of parasites, on its catastrophe. 
Dignity, servility, truth, falsehood, knowledge, ig- 
norance, virtue, vice, all flow from the spirit of gov- 
ernment, as naturally as the stream flows from the 
fountain. 

Who could not pronounce, that Cicero wrote 
during the existence of the Roman republic, and 
that Horace wrote under a monarchy ? Who could 
not pronounce that Lord Bacon* held the pen of a 
slave, while Sidney, Harrington, and Milton wrote 
during a respite ? 

In short, this passion for appearance^ pardonable 
in the glowworms of society, who shine only in the 
absence of light, has not only infe6led both city and 

*" There remain two posthumous felicitits, which seem to attend the more 
noble and august passages of her life: the one is that of her successor, the other 
that of her memory. For she has got such a successor, who though by his mascu- 
line virtue and offspring, and late accession to the throne, he may excel and 

eclipse her glory ; yet, &c." Thus says Lord Bacon, in speaking of James the 

First, in hij E^say tn the Character of 3.Win Eliziiteth> 



[ 224 ] 

villages but has pervaded the republic of letters, has 
tricked out philosophy in the garb of the coxcomb, 
and sent her to dance attendance on the great, in 
the waiting rooms of their palaces. 

The remark must be qualified with many excep- 
tions, but I believe it will generally obtain. That if 
this people could have their choice of property or 
happiness^ they would prefer property and trust 
their happiness to i\\Q fashion. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXI. 



LOKDOK, JUNE iCtli. 

A. DINED yesterday with Mr. L. *' And so," 
said he, " I have heard you say, you esteem the 
English more, since you have seen them, but esteem 
England less." Mr. L. then threw the gaundet, 
by observing, " The English form of government 
discovered this remarkable peculiarity, that while 
all other forms of government had deteriorated, and 
become victims of their own corruption, it was the 
fortune of the English constitution, notwithstanding 
so many revolutions, which frequently ruin what 
they intend to mend , and the constant collision of 
party, which as frequently, either relaxes to imbecil- 
ity, or strains beyond the vigour of law, to stand at 
this day, the wonder of the world." — " How does 
it operate on general happiness ? A government may 
be excellent in theory, and yet its administration be 
a mockery of its principles : that is, the govern- 
ment may be nothing more than a /or/Tz." Mr. L. 
observed, " That the theory of every government 
was doubtless more pure, than its administration : 
that the sublimest principles became sullied in their 

Ff 



[ 226 ] 

descent to common life : but that the English con- 
stitution had co-extended remedy with wrong, and 
brought that remedj' home to every Englishman's 
door." — "What, sir, do you define the best form 
of government?" " That," replied Mr. L. "which 
operates most extensively on general happiness." 
" What, then, sir, may be the proportion between 
the rich and poor in England ?" " And whom do 
you term poor ?" " All those whose daily industry 
produces only their daily bread, — and leaves them at 
the end, as destitute as they were at the beginning, 
of the year : not only those who have not bread to 
eat, but all those whose daily labour enriches others, 
but aifords only a scanty subsistence to them- 
selves." Madam L. observed, " such were not 
considered poor, in England, and that I was in a fair 
way to conclude them a nation of beggars." Mr. 
L. replied that, " perhaps, four fiftlis of the people 
would come under this description of poor." I 
then asked, " What might have been the proportion 
in the reign of Henry the Eighth, when the pleasure 
of the king was the law of the land, greater or less ?" 
" There was, doubtless, then," said Mr. L. " a 
more equal state of things, for society was not so 
complicated as at present, the largest possessions 
did not confer so dangerous and oppressive an influ- 
ence ; the desire of acquisition had not thrust out of 



[ 227 ] 

doors the liberal, chivalrous spirit of hospitality." 
*' Nor," added I, '* had commerce and manufa6lure 
enriched a few at the expense of the many." ' ' But 
what is your view," said Mr. L. " in comparing the 
state of society between the present and the past ?" 
" Why, the English would be willing to exchange 
the reign of his present majesty for that of Henry 
the Eighth." " Nay, sir, the spirit of the modern 
English would not tolerate a tyrant, like Henry, on 
the tlirone ; and if there be at present less general hap- 
piness in England, than there was in the days of Hen- 
ry the Eighth, it is not to be attributed to the per- 
nicious influence of the Constitution of 1692, but to 
the national debt." " Very plausible," I replied : 
*' but suppose the English free from debt : if your 
king happen to be a weak monarch, he falls into the 
hands of a minister : the consequence of this, let 
Walpole, Bute and North answer : if he happen to 
be an Edward First, an Edward Third, or Henry 
the Fifth, and capable of governing per se^ without 
a minister, your constitution, pro tempore^ is annul- 
led : for he must be a very weak prince, who is not 
stronger, than that constitution which thwarts his 
wishes. A James the Second, I readily admit, 
ought not to attempt an usurpation on the constitu- 
tion. But a bold prince, nay, a woman, like " good 
queen Bess," might use the constitution as she did 



[ 228 ] 

the Earl of Essex, flatter it when pleased, and dis- 
card it when jealous. Indeed, I hazard a doubt, if 
your boasted constitution has ever proved a trial of 
its strength." — "But you seem to be ignorant, sir, 
that the English have a House of Commons, the 
proteclor of the constitutional rights of the subje6V, 
the watchful guardian of the interests of the people, 
without whose consent not a farthing can be levied : 
this is the glorious bulwark of an EngUshman's lib- 
erty — This popular branch of the government, so in- 
estimable, was peculiar to England, until the wis- 
dom of your own legislators, adopted it under the 
name of a House of Representatives." "Your 
House of Commons," 1 concede, " has been a very 
economical guardian of the interest of the people : 
it has only involved them in a debt of 7?'^^ hundred 
and fifty millions^ since the commencement of the 
last century. Your House of Commons is the 
most convenient thing imaginable for a Chancellor of 
the Exchequer : it affords him colour for those 
measures, which might have cost former ministers 
their heads. Hence, one of them said, in imitation 
of the Roman, " Money and 'votes are equally neces- 
sary, for witb money lean purchase uotes, and with 
votes raise money.'''* " But this national debt, which 
so much alarms you, is not only an imaginary evil, 
but a positive good : it consolidates the strength of 



[ 229 3 

the nation. The riches of the country have increas- 
ed with its debt, and she is at this moment, a& com- 
petent to pay the interest, as she was in the da5^s of 
George the First or Second." I observed, *' If the 
landholders and tlie merchants divided between 
them, the burden of the national debt, there might 
not be so much cause for complaint ; but the whole 
burden fell on the poor." " How can you make that 
appear?" said Mr. L. "Sufficiently evident, for 
there can be no possible proportion benveen that tax 
'which lemes one hundred pounds on him who willne'u- 
er feel the remotest incon'venience from the imposition, 
and that which lemes only sixpence on him, who will 
suffer the depr illation of a single dinner, or zvorktwo 
extra hours, in consequence of the tax; and this is 
equally true, whether the tax be direct or indi- 
rect. Therefore, your national debt does impov- 
erish the country, and chain the poor to hopeless 
poverty. It is a tyrant whom no law can bine), no 
weapon reach, no submission soften, no condition 
escape : a new species of monster, which would col- 
le6l within itself the whole world, and then sink be- 
neath its own weight." *' But," said Mr. L. 
*' what nation under heaven, ever discriminated in 
this manner between the rich and poor ? It is utter- 
ly impossible, if the taxes be indireft. Do they, in 
your country, discriminate between the rich and 
poor?" 



[ 230 ] 

Thus Mr. L. turned my eyes on our own coun- 
try.— Certainly, my dear fellow, it is one of the first 
principles, and it ought to be the operation, of our 
constitution, to check the tendency of inequality^ to 
burden those least, whose doors open with a wood- 
en latch, to facilitate the endeavours of industry, and 
discountenance the redundancy of wealth. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXIL 



LONDOU, JVNS l-rth. 

X HERE is no description of people in Eng- 
land, holden in lessrespe6l, than the quakers : yet I 
have seen no se6l in this country with whom I have 
been more pleased. The cause of this dislike lies 
deadly deep. In a corrupted state of society, those 
who approach nearest to first principles will forever 
be objedls of dislike, if not of abhorrence, with the 
rest of the community ; for they will naturally hate 
those who differ from them in so many important 
points, and who not only differ from them, but in- 
terfere with their immediate interests. 

With respe6l to the rest of the world, the qua- 
kers certainly are a hopeless and barren set of peo- 
ple. They hate equally kings and priests. Their 
consciences revolt at tythes in any sliape, therefore 
the clergy hate them. Their own meditations 
serve them instead of preaching, therefore the relig- 
ious of most other denominations dislike them. 
Their temperance laughs at the physician, and their 
honesty starves the lawyer, while their prudence 
and foresight exalt them above the a6live, injurious 



[ 232 ] 

hatred of the world, and elevate them above those 
who despise them. 

Their decency of carriage, their unassuming man- 
ners, their habitual economy, and general spirit of 
equity, have long, and will, perhaps, forever connect 
them together in a body, co-existent with their 
present maxims. 

There is one characteristic which distinguishes 
the quakers from all other se6ls. They discover 
nothing of the spirit of proselytisrn : their favourite 
sentiments partake nothing of enthusiasm ; they 
hurl no damnation on the rest of the world, tolerant 
to every body, they consider all honest men their 
brethren. There is not a single trait in their char- 
a6ler incentive to ill will, nor a movement in their 
condu6l which has ever courted persecution. 
Their humility has never resisted even oppression ; 
in suffering patient, they are a6live only in support 
of their principles. Remote from all hypocrisy, 
they have never sought after temporal power, nor 
has their own system ever operated to the prejudice 
of others. Yet this se6l has been persecuted, and 
its members been put to death !* The blackest 
stigma on human nature with which the annals of 
politics or religion have been stained. 

Though they live under a monarchy they have 
contrived, with the sacrifice of all temporal favours, 

* In New England 



[ 233 3 

to ere6l themselves into a government of their own, 
approaching as near to a republic as is consistent 
with any sort of allegiance to the current govern- 
ment. This is a master piece of policy which has 
gained them a firm standing in the midst of their 
enemies, and which ought to teach the rest of man- 
kind that it is practicable for a virtuous, persevere 
ing few to counteradl the many. The quakers 
have contrived to render themselves happy, in the 
midst of misery, and free, in a great measure, in 
the midst of slavery. Hence, they have all that nat- 
ural, unaffected dignity, and all that manly, cordial 
spirit of accommodation which man discovers to 
man before he becomes degenerate : and hence, 
they regard mankind pretty much as that Cherokee 
did, who, being introduced at Paris, and shewn eve- 
ry thing which was supposed capable of delighting 
or surprisiiig him, was asked, after his eyes had 
swallowed the objcCls of a whole week's exhibi- 
tion, " What astonished him most ?" answered, 
" The difference between man and man : " and then 
being questioned, " PFith ivhat he was most de- 
lighted P^^ answered, ''He was most delighted to 
see a passenger help a heavy burden upon the back of 
another,'''' 

Although the quakers approach nearer to the relig- 
ion of nature, notwithstanding their correspondence 



[ 234 ] 

with the world, than any systematic se£l which has 
ever appeared, they still hold to the great principles 
of the christian religion, though in point di ortho- 
doxy^ they can hardly be termed christians. Most 
others, whether eastern sages, or western saints, 
have retired from the world in the degree they have 
approached Brama or Jesus, while the quakers, con- 
tented with this world until they can find a better, 
have found the secret of living in the midst of soci- 
ety, and of mingling as much of this world as is con- 
sistent with heaven, and as much of heaven as is 
consistent with making the most of this world. 

I have been led to these observations from a petty 
circumstance which occurred yesterday. I found 
on my table, the following printed notice. — " Some 
of the people called quakers^ intend to hold a meeting 
this evening ^ at their place of worship, in Martin'' s 
Court., St. Martinis Lane, to ivhich the neighbours 
are incited.'*'* In cxpeiSlation of something extraor- 
dinary, I attended. At the door I was received by 
one of the friends, who introduced me to a seat 
among the elders. The house was soon filled, and 
a profound silence reigned for a few minutes, when 
one of the brethren rose, and began to speak, but he 
had not spoken a minute, when an elder said, " We 
would take it kind of thee^ friend, to sit down,'*^ 
The speaker looked up to see whence the disappro- 



C 235 ] 

bation proceeded ; then nodding, in acquiescence, 
sat down. Presently, a fine looking, elderly lady, of 
matronly appearance, dressed in the most elegant 
simplicity, rose, and after a warm and impressive 
prayer, delivered extempore, an animated and edi- 
fying discourse, with a flow of elocution and grace of 
manner, which, had she been forty years younger, 
might have inflamed those passions she sought to 
allay. 

There is one defedl in the polity of the quak- 
ers, which will forever subje6t them to the tyranny 
of the times — They love peace so well, they will not 
even fight for their liberty. This known principle 
divests them of all political consequence, when those 
great political movements are agitated, which some- 
times involve the deepest consequences to society — . 
Otherwise, the quakers would gradually efFe<Sl a 
revolution throughout the world. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXIIL 



LOKDOK, JVLY r,th. 

Xt is the custom of some of the London book- 
sellers to give weekly dinners to their literary, and 
other friends. Hence, you sometimes find at the 
same table, characters who would never have met 
together, except under the auspices of roast beef 
and Madeira wine. It was these which brought 
together " Jack JVilkes^ and the 'Denerable- Samuel 
Johnson.'''' A bookseller's dinner is doubly a treat 
to his guests. It offers an indirect, but agreeable 
compliment, by telling them, " Their own fame has 
enabled him to treat them so sumptuously." 

The republic of letters is never more respe6lable, 
than on those occasions of good humour and liberal 
mirth, when all the arts and sciences find themselves 
encircled round the festive board. The man who is 
in the habit of associating with his enemy, will fre- 
quendy finish by esteeming him. Mr. Malthus, 
who has written an Essay on the Principle of Popu- 
lation, a work of some fame, against the Political 
Justice, was lately seated, at a bookseller's dinner, 
next to Mr. Godwin. 



[ 237 ] 

I found myself yesterday at Mi". Johnson's, the 
bookseller, in St. Paul's Church Yard, where, 
among others, I was introduced to Fuseli the paint- 
er, and a Scotch gentleman, who is publishing, in 
Scotland, a new edition of Ossian with the original 
language. 

The English don't say much till the first course is 
finished. But their manner of eating soon throws 
them into a gentle fever, which invites to sociability, 
when they have sufficient confidence in their compa- 
ny. Mr. Bonnycastle contributed not a little to the 
entertainment ; though remarkably merry, I sus- 
pe<5l he is a mathematician, for he observed, " The 
ball on the top of St. Paul's would appear ten times 
laiger, if placed on the ground at the same dis- 
tance." The diiference of the medium of vision, 
was concluded to be the cause of this. But one of 
the company, who thought it much easier to be cer- 
tain of a thing, than to ascertain its truth, proposed 
to Mr. Bonnycastle to go and measure its circum- 
ference, and then make the experiment. 

Fuseli was the life of the entertainment. Ready 
on all occasions, his happy combination of language, 
joined to his emphatic manner, bordering hard on 
dogmatism, together with his deep insight into hu- 
rnan nature, renders him an oracle wherever he 
goes. This is the same Fuseli to whom Lavater 



[ 233 ] 

dedicates his Aphorisms on Man. His first publi- 
cation was a romantic essay on the principal works 
of John James Rousseau, written, as Mr. Johnson, 
the publisher, informs me, forty years since ; and 
except his professional le6tures,* from that time to 
the present, he has published nothing. Fuseli was 
brought up in the family of Lavater, and caught 
from him not a litde of the enthusiasm of his charac- 
ter. He spoke of him with reverence and affe6lion, 
and seemed gratified with my marks of respe6l for 
the memory of that original sage. One of the com- 
pany related an anecdote of Lavater, " That a Swiss 
lady had waited on him to request his opinion of her. 
Lavater observed her a considerable time, and 
promised he would send her a written character. 
The contents of the letter were, " Very pretty ^ very 
silly. ^^ I observed that, ''''pretty,^'' had no relation 
to character, and if it had, Lavater's style of life 
was very remote from such trifling. Fuseli nod- 
ded assent, and said the author of the anecdote 
knew nothing of Lavater's character. 

There must have been a conflidl in the mind of 
Fuseli, between the painter and the author, but the 
painter got the ascendant, and claims a large portion 
of the sublimity of his character. Yet I am inclined 
to believe he sometimes regrets he has preferred the 

• Fuseli is Professor of Painting in the Royal Academy. 



[ 239 ] 

temporary and confined fame of the brush, to the 
more durable and extensive expression of the pen j 
for his conversation discovers all the correctness of 
the scholar, with the enthusiasm of original senti- 
ment. His profession has naturally led him to his- 
tory, which he seems to have explored with the 
jealous eye of incredulity. The character of Juhan 
was accidentally remarked on by one of the compa- 
ny : Julian, whom his enemies have attempted to 
depreciate with the name of Apostate, has always 
been a flivourite of mine, on account of his justice, 
valour, constancy in adversity, and moderation in 
command. But Fuseli, I perceived, regarded Juli- 
an, with more than disUke, with abhorrence ; and 
when I volunteered in his defence, and appealed to 
the Decline and F :ll of the Roman Empire, he put 
me down by observing, " Ammianus Marcellinus, 
the historical authority of Gibbon, had drawn a very 
different character of Julian, from that exhibited in 
in the Decline and Fall ; tliat the worst traits in his 
character had been concealed, and the best embel- 
lished by Gibbon, who, fond of Julian, was afraid of 
spoiling his hero by giving him his just character.'- 
However, Gibbon is not the only historian who has 
delighted to celebrate the virtues, the wisdom, and 
the valour of Julian ; and I am yet to be persuaded 
that Julian the Apostate was not a fine fellow, and 
worth all the holy Fathers who ever wore a tiara. 



t 240 ] 

The features of Fuseli are as strongly marked as 
if they had been cut in marble, but his character, 
which I suspect is naturally violent, seems temper- 
ed with philosophy and adorned with an exquisite 
taste. Eccentric from his cradle, age has taken 
nothing from the impetuosity of his conceptions, 
which by turns dazzle, elevate and astonish. It 
is now, a profound remark, then, general satire, and 
presently, a romantic excursion. In short, Fuseli, 
in all the relations of life, is a respectable man. 

The Scotch gentleman, who is publishing Ossian 
with the original language^ had come to London 
to mortgage a large quantity of Scotch land. One 
of the company whispered, He ought tohaije gone to 
Norway or Lapland ; there ^ Scotch lands might 
be praised. 

The new edition of Ossian gave rise to several 
observations. I endeavoured to obtain Fuseli's 
opinion of the authority of those poems, but was 
prevented by the rapidity of his conversation. He 
seemed to treat the poems with no great respe6l, 
and at length let off a shot at the whole clan of 
Scotch poets, by roundly asserting that, all the 
Scotch rhymers put together would not amount to 
half a poet. Fuseli, I discovered, would allow no 
man to be a poet who is not in the habit of attaining 
to the sublime. Himself deals altogether in the 



[ 241 ] 

sublime of painting. He has even attempted the 
sublime in the three witches in Macbeth. But 
if the object of the various kinds of poetry be to 
please, to enrapture, to soothe, to elevate, he is a 
true poet who can attain his object in either way. 
The Greeks were not so nice : Anacreon, Theo- 
critus and Pindar were acknowledged by all Greece, 
Then why should Allan Ramsay, Thompson and 
Burns be questioned ? For my part, I should be 
loath to see the more humble Beattie whipped from 
Parnassus. 

It seemed to be the opinion of the Scotch gen- 
tleman, if the original language was printf-d with 
the translation, every doubt respecting the author- 
ity of the poems would be silenced. I obje^led 
the possibility that ihe original language \might 
hai}e been translated from Macphersori's Ossian^ 
and would probably raise another storm of criticism,. 

Adieu. 



Hh 



LETTER XXXIV. 



LONDOK JULY if>th. 

x\n excursion to Oxford, on foot, with an m- 
telligent fellow traveller, at this season of the year, 
will afford all that the charms of nature can give, in 
addition to what one may colle^Sl as a tourist. 

Having procured a letter of introduction to a gen- 
tleman, Mr. Portall, a fellow of St. John's, Oxford, 
we proceeded by the way of Windsor, the summer 
residence of their Majesties. Nine miles from the 
city, on the road to Windsor, is Turnham Green. 
Here dwells the venerable Dr. Griffiths,* the orig- 
inal of the Monthly Review. Having formerly 
been introduced, and received by him with the af- 
fectionate compliment, " That he had a reverence 
for the citizens of the United States," we called on 
this literary patriarch, and ran over fifty years in 
about an hour and a half. Sociable, as most old 
men are, when you have their confidence, and high- 
ly interesting, by having at command the cream of 
all the literature, with the connecting anecdotes of 
the last half century, he requires only your atten 

• Lately deceased. 



fC 243 ] 

lion to carry you into the ^-/rf/z room of the republic 

of letters Fortunately for most celebrated authors, 

their books live, and their memories perish ; other- 
>vise the glory of their names would rarely save their 
chara^ers from contempt. 

1 asked, if David Hume did not once reside in 
that vicinity, and if he was acquainted with him ? 
He pointed from tlie window to a house, in which 
he resided while at Turnham Green. He added, 
*' Both Hume and Rousseau have spent many an 
hour in this room." I was transported to be con- 
versing with a man, who had been intimate with 
Rousseau. I was earnest to colle6l every particular 
respe6\ins that wonderful character. Dr. Griffith 
thought Rousseau knew the human Iieart much 
better in the closet, than he did in tlie world, which 
led him frequently to discover, notwithstanding the 
goodness of his heart — " Then," added I, interrupt-' 
ing him, " he had an excellent heart ?" — " which, 
notwithstanding the goodness of his heart," re- 
peated the Dr. " frequently led him to discover a 
jealousy, which rendered it extremely difficult for 
people of the world to accommodate themselves to 
him." — " But, sir, this jealousy was nothing more, 
than the excess of sensibility ; it did not originate 
in envy ?" " No, who was there for Rousseau to en- 
vy ? Rousseau envied no man." " But," added I, 



[ 244 3 

"Voltaire, I suspe6l, envied Rousseau." "No 
wonder," said the Dr. " the world gave Voltaire a 
rival, and Voltaire had not sufficient magnanimity 
to admire a man, who, like Minerva, sprung full 
grown from the head of Jupiter ; and who seemed to 
usurp part of that temple, in which Voltaire alone 
had been so long worshipped. 

I asked the Dr. " How Rousseau spent his time, 
when he visited him?" "As little like a philoso- 
pher," he replied, "as you can imagine. He had 
a little sagacious dog, called Cupid, which always 
followed him, and whenever he was urged to con- 
verse on subje6ls either disagreeable or fatiguing to 
him, he would begin to sing, at the same moment, 
Cupid would begin to dance, and thus he would fre- 
quently spend two hours together, excepting those 
short intervals, when Cupid would make a blunder, 
and then Rousseau would fall a laughing. In this 
manner, would the philosopher of Ermenonville 
spend many an hour in that window seat, while he 
resided in this town with Hume." 

We left this civil old gentleman, who made us 
promise to come and eat a bit of mutton with him, 
and proceeded to Windsor. The castle is on a 
high bill of gentle ascent, and commands from the 
Round Tower, a fine prospc6lof notless than twelve 
counties. But nothing gave me more pleasure, than 



[ 245 ] 

the prospe6l of Runny mead, so memorable for the 
extortion of Magna Charta, from King John — if a 
natural right can ever be said to be extorted — It is a 
pity that every royal castle had not a Runnymead in 
sight. The keeper, who pointed out the places of 
most note, I observed, passed his eye over this fa- 
mous champaign. Within a short distance, seeming- 
ly within reach, stands Eton College, noted for good 
classic scholars. The hills, covered with wheat, 
which, quite ripe, insured a golden harvest, the 
stately oaks and trees of less growth, whidi, at every 
short interval, intercepting, variegated the face of 
nature, while in the neighbouring plains, the brute 
creation, grazing at large, or ruminating in fulness, 
the calmness of the scene around, the approaching 
decline of day, together with the curling smoke 
from the kitchen firehearths of many villages, in- 
spired a serenity of mind which was fast approach- 
ing to a religious reverie, when a beggar,* who had 
followed us up to the Round Tower, broke the 
charm. 

The castle is ornamented with many fine paint- 
ings. The cartoons of Raphael were shewn to us. 
I admired them of course, not that I know an origin- 
al from a copy, I only aspire to judge of the design 
and execution, of the moral, or humour of the piece, 

♦ The royal waiter who admitted us to the castle. 



[ 246 ] 

or if it be true to nature ; and every one can do this. 
Tlie cartoons are so called by ^vay of eminence, to 
distinguish six large paintings of Raphael, the sub- 
je6\s of which are taken from the most interesting 
passages of the New Testament, whence most of 
tlie subjects of the Italian masters are taken. 

You, in the United States, know nothing of the 
raptures which fine paintings are capable of raising 
in the arms, face and shoulders of real amateurs. 
A man is scarcely a critic, unless he can expire in 
convulsions, or petrify with astonishment, at the 
sight of a fine new painting. At the late annual ex- 
hibition at the Royal Academj^, I observed a gen- 
tleman examining very attentively one of Turner's 
recent paintings. For my part, I had visited all the 
rooms and was about to retire, when I saw the same 
man, fixed in the same place, contemplating the 
portrait. I walked up by his side, and ventured to 
ask him, "What he saw in that portrait, which 
commanded so much of his attention ?" " See !" 
exclaimed he, "I see something that looks a little 
like painting. I wish I was chained to that por- 
trait." I told him, " Lord Thurlow* would have 
no objection to that, as he was fond of chains and 
slavery." 

• It was a most striking likeness of Lord Thurlow. 



[ 247 ] 

I lately visited a small colledlion of piiSlures, 
which cosfthe proprietor ^(^20,000. He had form- 
erly made the tour of Europe, in search of paintings. 
He was then gone to Italy to purchase more. Two 
of them, called by way of eminence the Murillios, 
which cost him ^^4000 sterling, would scarcely sell 
at a Boston vendue, for so many pence — only be- 
cause we don't know the worth of pictures. How- 
ever,, if the affluent have no worse passion, than a 
passion for fine paintings, let them enjoy both day 
and night their sleeping Venuses, or wanton with 
the houris over the landscapes of Claude Lorrain. 

The time now approached when the royal family 
was expedled to walk on the terrace. The terrace 
is situate on the declivity of the hill, south easterly 
from the casde ; it is a charming walk, faced with 
free stone, nearly two thousand feet in length, if my 
eye was correct. Here, their Majesties, with the 
princes, and princesses, accompanied by a band of 
musicians, graciously walk in fine weather, at fix 
o'clock in the evening, to shew themselves to strang- 
ers. Behind the royal family there walked several 
lords in waiting, whom I stupidly mistook for livery 
servants ; so nearly allied, sometimes, is the height 
of greatness to the height of meanness. There were 
as many as a hundred strangers who lined the ter- 
race to view this royal exhibition. As his Majesty 



[ 248 ] 

passed by, they stood uncovered, himself frequently 
bowing to the spectators. 

The same evening we proceeded to Maidenhead. 
Though a sound sleep would have been highly 
agreeable, all strangers who tarry in that town are 
obliged to lie awake. A Stentor of a fellow, at every 
half hour, passed under my window, crying the 
time of night, and what made the matter worse, he 
tagged every thirty minutes with " Praise the Lord^ 
Amen!'''' A monkish reli6l, I suppose. Our land- 
lord, one of the most civil people in the world, had 
risen before us, and seemed really sorry to have us 
go before breakfast. The English inns are, certain- 
15^, the most accommodating places in the world : 
two knocks on the table will immediately produce 
all the effe6ls of magic. I have never met in Eng- 
land with but one innkeeper who did not appear to 
be a gentleman. This was at Newbur>\ It is the 
custom for most of the English to drink at every inn, 
at which a stage stops. As they travel day and 
night in England, an Englishman will sometimes 
drink about twelve times in the twenty four hours, 
beside what he drinks at dinner. The landlord 
having waited on those who were most pressing for 
drink, at length came up to one of the passengers 
and asked, " What he would have to drink ?" He 
assured him, " he had drunk five times since din- 



[ 249 ] 

ner, and could not venture on any more. " But 
thetiy" said he, ''^what shall I make by you ?" '' O, 
sir, you shall lose nothing by me," replied the pas- 
senger, " if you will be so good as to dedu6l from a 
pint of porter the original cost and duties, I will pay 
you the balance between that amount and the retail 
price." 

We breakfasted at Henley, a considerable coun- 
try town; and while breakfast was preparing, I 
went into a neighbouring church yard, these being 
places of most amusement in many country towns, 
to read the epitaphs, some of which were highly im- 
pressive, though written in an exquisite bad taste. 
Sometimes, the writers of these epitaphs, possibly 
without knowing it, hit upon the sublime of human 
character. The following epitaph I met with in a 
country village. "Here lies the body of Henry 
Steele. He was a good son and a good brother, a 
good husband and a good father ; and the neigh- 
bours all followed him to his grave." 

Between Henley and Oxford, the prospe^ls, 
scenery, cultivation, the ripe, abundant harvest of 
wheat, the grateful, mellow temperature of the sea- 
son, all conspired to enhance those pleasures, which 
liberal nature offers even to the senses. Surely, 
said I, this is a delightful country! " Yes," said 
my companion, " but finish your rhapsody quick, 
I i 



[ 250 ] 

or it will end in a sarcasm." I looked up and saw, 
at a distance, a company of little gleaners approach- 
ing, with their arms full of sheaves. *' There," said 
he, " your first reflection will be that, although 
Providence has lavished an abundant harvest, this- 
little company of gleaners will scarcely have, in win- 
ter, bread to eat, while the granaries, in mockery of 
Ceres, will hold much of this wheat until it rots. 
But who can help it, if monopolisers 'will puzzle 
God's providence ?" As the gleaners passed by, I 
asked one of them, " Why they went so far to 
glean, when the reapers were so busy all around ?" 
" O, sir," said another of the company, who seem- 
ed to be the brightest, " it is not every farmer that 
permits us to glean, nor is it a favour granted to ev- 
ery one." We passed on. '* Ah," said my fel- 
low traveller, shrugging up his shoulders in raillery, 
*' this would be a charming country, if there were 
no men in it !" 

In the evening we arrived at Oxford, about sixty 
miles north westerly from London, an inland city, 
famous all over the world as a nursery of great men, 
and great scholars. Oxford is particularly an ob- 
ject of curiosity on account of the variety of Gothic 
archite^ure. The colleges, twenty in number, are 
very large, and some of them noble, Gothic build- 
ings. Separated from each other at spacious dis- 



4 



[ 251 ] 

tances, they give the city a most venerable and sol- 
emn aspecl. Oxford too has the happiness of being 
visited by the Thames, of all rivers in the world 
the most adored. The Hindoos do not hold the 
Ganges in higher veneration, than do the English 
this river, and should they become idolaters they 
would pay divine honours to silver Thames. The 
Cherwell too, and the more humble Isis, are in the 
neighbourhood of Oxford. 

We waited, in the morning, on Mr. Portall, I can- 
not express to you how cordially he received us ; 
he gave us two days of unwearied attention. Him- 
self a ripe scholar, and what is more, a man of good 
sense, seemed to partake of that satisfaction which 
he afforded, in shewing us every thing remarkable 
in the different colleges, which he rendered doubly 
impressive by adding all the interesting particulars 
which have been coUedling for ages. 

The Bodleian Library, the largest in the world, 
except that of the Vatican at Rome, contains many 
precious, unillumined manuscripts, which, no doubt, 
in the course of centuries, will enrapture many an 
antiquary : as will the Arundelian marbles lately 
arrived from the East. These fragments were im- 
ported at great expense, and in all probability, when 
they are deciphered, will amount to nothing more, 
than some loose couplets to a favourite mistress, 



[ 252 ] 

or, what is more pernicious, the apotheosis of some 
tyrant. 

Some of these manuscripts are so exceedingly 
valuable, it is not yet ascertained in what language 
they are written. It is told with considerable hu- 
mour, that one of them was presented to a famous 
antiquary, who, after six months, returned it with a 
serious opinion that *' The manuscript was a rami- 
fication of a branch of a diale6l of that language, 
which the northern Huns spoke, who broke down 
the Great Wall of China." 

This immense library was to me a source of va- 
rious refle6lion. Here, thought I, is collected not 
a little of the nonsense of the days of monkery, 
much of the truth and falsehood of antiquity, the 
romantic extravagance of the days of chivalry, 
" which now, alas ! are gone forever !" and the 
more dangerous, because more subtle, dictates of 
modern tyranny. The wonderful exertion of the 
human mind which this library discovered, produ- 
ced a mingled emotion of admiration, pity and con- 
tempt for the sublimity, perversion and mean- 
ness of the race of philosophers and authors. Nine 
tenths of the volumes, here laid up in literary pen- 
ance, ought to have sent their authors to bedlam j 
for, CA-^ery famous book filled with more errors, 
than truths, adds a new link to the chain of error ; 



[ 253 ] 

and notwithstanding truth is eternal, and error tem- 
porary, yet, owing to self interest, passion and vvrong- 
headedness, there are in all countries ten errors pub- 
lished for one truth ; hence, we ought not to won- 
der at the doubt in which men of sense are involv- 
ed, nor at the inconsistencies into which the 
thoughtless fall. For truth and error are at first re- 
ceived by mankind with equal credit, and when 
these ten errors are discovered, the solitary truth is 
not secure, for they in resentment turn persecutors. 
Your fancy cannot figure, either in Arcadia, or in 
imaginary Parnassus, more charming retreats for 
contemplation, or more inspiring recesses to build 
the lofty composition, than the secluded gardens 
of the colleges afford. Here, the peripatetics might 
have forgotten their favourite walks, or the more re- 
fined Epicurus and his disciples their earthly para- 
dise.* Here, art has successfully introduced the 
varieties of nature, and administers to the senses at 
the same time she expands the heart and elevates 
the mind. No wonder this is classic ground, no 



• It still remains a doubt whether or not the priitcipki and mode of life of Epi- 
cuius and his disciples were purely intellefbual, or voluptuous. It is evidently the 
interest of divines to represent this philosopher a votary cf pleasure : for if it can be 
fairly proved that his life was faultless, and his contemplations purely intelledlual, 
he has approached nigher the " spiritual life j" than most saints in the calendar. 
It is not a little extraordinary, that to many of your sturdy divines should regard 
the best and wisest heathens with the most bitter hatred. With them, the virtuous 
Phocion is not to be compared with one of their own parishioners, who, possibly, be- 
lieves, he knows not why, and prays merely because he is told it is a duty. 



C 254 ] 

wonder this University is the nursery of so many 
veterans in the republic of letters. Whether they 
prefer to contemplate mankind, explore nature 
through the various formation and use of the leaf, 
or leaving the physic garden, to ascend the heavens, 
they have within their reach every assistance to es- 
tablish truth, or confute error — Oxford has at pres- 
ent fifteen hundred students. 

Here is the largest colle6:ion of paintings, by the 
great masters, which I have ever seen. Some of the 
more public apartments of the colleges seem to re- 
vive the Italian and Flemish schools. Nor do the 
Dutch make an awkward appearance among the 
more southern artists ; although a Dutchman rarely 
considers his painting finished, until he has introdu- 
ced a dirty table, with pipes and tobacco, and a pot 
of geneva, together with a fishing smack in a fresh 
breeze ; but if the latter cannot be introduced, he 
contents himself to hang up a large ham and several 
pounds of Bologna sausages over the fire place. 

At four o'clock we dined with Mr. Portall, at St. 
John's, with several other fellows of that college. 
The apartment was decent, and the furniture ele- 
gant. The dinner was perhaps too sumptuous and 
gross for those who are labouring up the hill of sci- 
ence. It may be customary, but more probable it 
was a compliment to their guests, dinner was scarce- 



[ 255 ] 

ly ended when coffee was introduced, and imme- 
diately after that, supper was on the table ; so we 
did not rise from dinner, coffee and supper until 
nearly ten o'clock. If these are usual habits, Aris- 
tippus would much oftener be found there, than Ze- 
no. During the entertainment, questions were nat- 
urally multiplied respecting our own country. 
They seemed delighted, to hear that their own great 
men were perhaps more generally known and read 
in the United States, than in England, It was a ro- 
mantic pleasure to imagine the reverberating echoes 
of their own labours in what they were pleased to 
term the wilderness. But they were not a little sur- 
prised, when I told them, excepting London, there 
were no cities in England which could vie with 
New York, Philadelphia, or even Boston. A re- 
gret was expressed that we were no longer the same 
people. I laughingly told them. That was their 
own fault, for the United States would, doubtless, 
accept them as a colony. 

After a morning excursion along the banks of 
the Isis, made sacred by the poems of Mason and 
Warton, we took our leave of Mr. Portall, who now 
added those cordialities which gave a double inter- 
est to his warm reception of us. 

We proceeded to Woodstock, about eight miles 
from Oxford, to take a view of Blenheim House, 



C 256 ] 

the seat of the Duke of Marlborough. On our way 
thither, we stopped at a cottage to buy a draught of 
beer. There was only an elderly woman with her 
daughter at home ; the latter of whom appeared to 
be ten years of age, and was sitting at a table learn- 
ing to write. The mother regarded us with not the 
least curiosity, but seemed gratified when we ex- 
amined the little girl's writing book, and offered to 
mend her pens and set her some new copies ; those 
from which she was writing being very little 
better than her own attempts. When we had ruled 
her book through, and set her more than twenty 
copies, she was highly pleased with the fairness of 
the writing, and shewing it to her mother, said, 
*' John himself could not write half so well." We 
then left the cottager. This is no otherwise worthy 
of notice, than by way of comparison. This woman 
lived in rustic retirement, and saw less of the world, 
than if she had lived in a village. Yet, though we 
were traveUing on foot, an unusual sight in Eng- 
land, and presuined to enter a prhate dwelling house ^ 
with no other view, than to buy a draught of beer, a 
suspicious circumstance, this good woman eyed us 
with no attention, asked us no questions, and court- 
ed no knowledge of our pursuit. How different in 
our own country ! In such a case the good woman 
would first inquire. Whence we came, and whither 



[ 257 3 

we were going, and what might be our business ? 
Then, she would contrive to find out our names. 
Then, pausing a moment to recolle6t if she knew, 
or had ever heard of the names before, she would 
ask, if the names were not forgotten, if our grandfa- 
thers or grandmothers were not related to Mr. or 
Mrs. Such-a-one. This would naturally lead to all 
the good woman knew. 

Woodstock is doubly famous, both on account of 
the past, and the present. Old Geoffry Chaucer 
was born here, and spent most of his days at Wood- 
stock. But in vain I looked for that door stone, 
which one of our own bards has so happily im- 
agined — 

" Chaucer on his door stone sits and sings. 
And tells liis merry tales of knights and kings '." 

Woodstock is famous, at present, for the seat of 
the Duke of Marlborough, and for gentlemen's fash- 
ionable gloves, and steel watch chains. 

At the great gate of the ample domain of his 
Grace, we were received by one of those persons, 
powdered for the occasion, whom you so frequently 
find in the service of great men. He was an elderly 
man, who had accumulated, in the course of perhaps 
forty years, ten thousand particulars respefting this 
country seat, which he has told ten thousand times, 
probably, without the least variation. Thus : " Do, 
Kk 



[ 258 ] 

pray, gentlemen, take a view of the river from this ar- 
tificial eminence, see how it opens upon that lawn — 
how pi<Sluresque that little wilderness of trees — now 
cast your eye a little to the right, and observe that 
island, seemingly afloat— turn a step to the left and 
see the monument, you have certainly heard of that 
monument — how it breaks upon you OA^er the river, 
while the trees seem suddenly to retire — Fair Rosa- 
mond lived yonder — you have certainly heard of 
Fair Rosamond" — In the same manner he ran 
over every thing, which concerned his particular 
branch. 

When we came to the bridge, which is between 
the palace and the monument, I ventured to ask 
him, " If the stream over which the bridge is built, 
was always as ivide as it is at present ?" He regard- 
ed me with a look of suspicion, and replied in the 
negative. He was jealous I had seen the famous 
epigram, made on this bridge, in the time of the 
original Duke of -Marlborough. 

" This mighty bridge his great ambition shows. 
The stream an emblem of his bounty flows." 

The monument is a proud pile, distant from the 
palace, about half a mile. It expresses on one side, 
all Churchill's merits as a soldier ; and on another 
side is given an extra6l from the A61 of Parliament, 
presenting Blenheim House and domain to John 
Churchill, &c. 



[ 259 ] 

We now turned, and approaclicd the mansion. 
The powdered gentleman began to discourse on its 
architecture, which he thought rather too low and 
heavy, but added, " It was in the usual style of Sir 
John Vanbrugh, not forgetting the epitaph, 

"Lay hea^^y on him earth, for he 
Laid many a heavy load on thee." 

At the gate of the palace there were five other vis- 
itors, waiting to view the apartments. Between the 
hours of two and four, the family retire in order to 
accommodate strangers. 

There was nothing in the palace worthy of par- 
ticular notice, except a collection of piclures, many 
of them by the Italian and Flemish masters, which 
had been presented to the first Duke of Marlbo- 
rough : some few of the paintings were on a large 
scale, exhibiting his own exploits. Here is the 
largest library, except the Bodleian, which I have 
ever seen ; but the ncgle6led appearance of the 
books did very little honour to their authors. The 
dining room, and dining table, which was set for 
dinner, were simply elegant, as was her Grace's 
bedchamber. — The powdered gentleman endeav- 
oured to persuade us to admire the damask bed 
quilt, tiie history of which consumed some time. 
He had now completed his usual circuit, and hav- 
ing received his exaClions, the amount of which 



[ 260 ] 

would have maintained the first Duke of Marlbo- 
rough a week, we were dismissed into the liands of 
the keeper of the park, who finished his official du- 
ties with another demand. — Here I had another op- 
portunity of observing how nearly, sometimes, the 
height of greatness is allied to the lowest meanness. 

I should despise that man, in the United States, 
who would condescend to raise a revenue on the 
curiosity, either of his own countrymen, or oi 
strangers. 

This system of exa6lion runs down from the 
royal palace to the waiter at the coifee house, or 
more humble ordinary. It cannot be supposed that 
their Majesties, or the Duke of Marlborough ,iease 
out these lucrative offices : but in the lower ranks 
of society, they are obje^s of speculation. One of 
the waiters, at a London coffee house, informed me 
he paid a weekly salary of eight shillings sterling to 
his master, for his place ! This needs no comment. 
I just add, that with a few exceptions, you find, in 
England, but two sorts of people, beggars by privi- 
lege, ai^d their co-relatives, beggars from necessity. 

Adieu, 



LETTER XXXV. 

LONDON, JUW 2gth. 

x ou request a sketch of the state of society 
in England. The few hundred miles which I have 
travelled, westerly from London, will hardly war- 
rant my speaking generally ; beside, society here is 
60 diversified, if you would speak generally, you 
are in danger of falling into an exception, and if you 
would speak particularly, you must enter into every 
body's kitchen. Hence, it is as difficult to describe 
the state of society, as it is to draw the chara6lers of 
the English — Though they are slaves to the opin- 
ions, ivhich obtain among people of their own de- 
scriptiony yet they despise to be exaclly like their 
neighbours. Hence, no Dutch fashions which last 
an hundred years, no blind attachment to an idol 
Lama, no uniform Spanish state of indifference : in 
short, England is in a continual circumstance of va- 
rious experiment : hence, every thing is inconsist- 
ent ; the nobleman frequently forgets his peerage, 
and the plebeian frequently imagines himself a no- 
bleman. You find a singular compound of liberty 
and slavery, of dignity and servility, some little 



[ 262 3 

degree of equality, yet every one despising those be- 
low himself. Not an individual in the nation knows 
the form of government, or knows what it may be 
three months hence : for, under the mere form of 
law, and of freedom, it is a perfc6t political despot- 
ism : and though the people may protest otherwise, 
they have no representatives in parliament. The 
people, indeed, are fully persuaded they ought to be 
free, and the parliament is willing to persuade 
them they are so, fearful lest they should resort to 
first principles. Hence, while most other govern- 
ments are supported by main force or passive con- 
sent, the English system is conducted by mutual 
concession. 

The king is nothing, except at the beginning and 
conclusion of a war ; yet he does not lose his digni- 
ty in time of peace, though he may be little more, 
than a king log. The private history of this peo- 
ple is equally a subject for the philosopher and the 
buffoon. Their public history is a little more con- 
sistent, and offers more uniformity, though less 
honesty. You perceive the same spirit streaming 
down from Jack Cade and Wat Tyler, to John 
Hampden and William Beckford, though Cade and 
Tyler do not rank in history with the latter, mere- 
ly because they were not gentlemen of education. 
But the public history of a powerful people is no 



[ 263 ] 

criterion of domestic happiness. Like certain beau- 
tiful and majestic women, such a people will show 
best at a distance, and possibly be most envied 
when least known. 

The few notices which 1 am enabled to offer on 
the present state of society, will be partly drawn 
from my own observation, and partly from as good 
intelligence as I have been able to procure, without 
seeming to seek it direiStly — for the English have 
one very great foible ; if they are ever disposed to 
deceive, it is in order to gain a stranger's good 
opinion — Yet, all of a sudden, they are perfectly in- 
different, if you are unwilling to admit their preten- 
sions. So that, if they do not pay, they do not exa6V, 
deference. 

I shall lay down a few data, from which you may 
draw a passably corre6l inference, with the help of 
a little imagination. The land in England is either 
possessed by the nobility, or, in a great measure, 
monopolized by private individuals : hence, all 
the miseries of the feudal system ; hence, you 
will readily conclude the tenancy of England to be 
in a state of slavery. The issues of industry do not 
go to cheer the domestic firehearth ; and although 
the English peasantry are not cerfs^ their condition 
is little less enviable ; every change of master would 
serve only to render them less respe(Slable and more 



[ 264 ] 

distressed. It is the interest of the landlord to re- 
tain his peasantry in a condition just above absolute 
want, and to discourage their removing from one 
master to another. Should they be permitted to 
attain a competency, the landlords would be ruin- 
ed : the next generation would lower the price of 
leases : the third would be capable of purchasing 
fees^ and unless the lands were sold, they would lie 
uncultivated — The contemplation of this state of 
things would burst the blood vessel of New Eng- 
land : but I am only a spe6\ator, and can write 
with moderation. 

The aspe6l of commerce will afford another in- 
sight into the state of society. Rapid acquisition of 
fortune, pomp and luxury, attend commerce ; but 
she carries in her train, misery in a thousand shapes. 
Commerce is not so odious in monarchies, where 
aristocracy is essential ; but in small republics it is 
destru^ive, and in great republics it is an evil, un- 
less its spirit be fully counteracted by agriculture. 
But without commerce, England would be nothing 
in the scale of nations, therefore if it be an evil, it is 
a necessary evil. Beside, I think it doubtful, if the 
people be not happier in having the alternative of 
gleaning in the fields of their landlords, or becoming 
the drudges of merchants. Yet one misfortune al- 
lies itself to commerce without any possible reme- 



[ 265 3 

dy. It creates the most odious of all aristocracies, 
the unfeeling, and unprincipled aristocracy of sud- 
den wealth. Then, destitute of every generous sen- 
timent, the man is disposed to retaliate on society 
all those hardships which himself has suffered in his 
adversity. Commerce has the head of a serpent, 
the arms of a tyrant, and the feet of a slave. It soon 
beggars a part of society, and flourishes in their 
ruin, while this miserable portion of society is re- 
duced to the necessity of administering to their own 
depression : for, die more wealthy and powerful a few 
individuals become, the more weak and miserable 
are their neighbours. This evil, which it is not in 
the power of the statesman to remedy, necessarily 
flows from commerce. If agriculture produces a 
similar effevSl, it is not necessary, but artificial. 
Legislation cannot operate on commerce, in the 
light in which I am now considering it, but it can 
operate on land. The law has only to abrogate the 
rights which attach to primogeniture, and the face 
of nature, in England, would immediately wear a 
different aspedl: : society, in this particularj would 
as soon find its level, as the falling water spout finds 
its level with the ocean. Such a law might take ef- 
fect without injuring any individual, if it should be 
made to operate at a certain, future time. Legisla- 
tion, in a tb.ousand ways, may operate on land. The 
l1 



[ 266 3 

people of Lucca 30 proportioned their taxes to the 
landed interest of each individual, that when his 
land exceeded a certain number of acres, the tax on 
the supernumerary acres, exceeded the rent.* But 
these observations with respect to England, are al- 
together futile : for the right of primogeniture, if 
dispensed with, would effedl an entire change of the 
English system ; but the nobility will never suffer 
this, ^icquid enim Liber tati plebis caveretur, id 
suis decedere opibus credunt.f 

You will think a country sufficiently wretched 
under these circumstances. But there is another 
evil flowing from commerce, in ibis country ^ which 
one cannot contemplate without pain. If the Eng- 
lish merchants, like the Hamburghers, or Dutch, 
traded on foreign merchandise, or, like most of the 
merchants of the United States, on the produce of 
agriculture, commerce might not operate so de- 
plorably. Tbe spider merchant in England^ liter- 
ally spins his nueb from the bowels of his fellow 
subjects. England is the first, or among the first 
manufacturing countries in Europe ; consequently, 
among the most miserable. Every nation is mis- 

• Suppose there should be a law, in our own country, prohibiting any citizen 
possessing more than three, four, or five hundred acres of land, either for himself, 
or to his use, luitliin the territory ofhii o'iun Commonwealth ? Such a law is already 
desirable, and might be passed, in presenti, to operate in futuro, suppose seven 
years, without prejudice to any individual, 
t Livy. 



[ 267 ] 

erable, in proportion to her manufaflories. Com- 
merce operates indire6lly, but manufaQories di- 
re^ly, against equality. They are the stone of 
Sysiphus, and the wheel of Ixion. The labour of 
thousands goes to enrich an individual. Their daily 
bread is precarious ; if those employs to which they 
are educated, fail, they are reduced to the situation 
of your common sort of gentlemen, who have dissi- 
pated their property, fit for nothing. A manufacto- 
ry cannot flourish^ unless the labourers sacrifice 
themselves to their employers : for their employers 
are as much interested to retain them in indigence, 
as are the landlords to impoverish their tenants. 
Nor is this all, the bodies of the workmen are not 
less distorted, than are their souls contracted. 
Their children are a lampoon on God's image, and 
carry through life the distortions of their parents. 

I have now given you the outlines of that state of 
society, which every nation would present under 
similar circumstances. There is nothing in Eng- 
land, of which I am aware, that substantially coun- 
teraiSls the operation o{ ^q tenure of land^ commerce , 
and manufactures. 

I know that every man has a peculiar mode of 
reasoning, and sees through his own medium. 
Some esteem that the happiest country, which 



[ 268 ] 

shows the charming sight of a village peasantry,* at 
a little distance from whom stands a magnificent 
palace. Others, like the Chinese, mentioned in a 
former letter, will esteem that country happiest, 
where five and twenty servants are attached to an 
individual. Some will consider that the happiest 
country, in which, the labour of thousands enrich a 
few. Others, like Lord Ellenborough, reasoning 
more abstractly, and taking a more general view of 
things, will think that the happiest country where 
a golden inequaliiyf prevails. To such, the even 
surface, and the waving harmony of a field of 
corn, convey no pleasure ! I differ from all these 
authorities, and believe that to be the happiest 
country, where labour is most equally divided, and 
the decencies of life most easily obtained. 

I know that man is disposed to give himself pref- 
erence whenever he can, and this selfishness is in 
great danger of being increased beyond toleration, 
when we look around on society. We are ready to 
exclaim, " This man ought to be a slave, that man 
was born to be subservient, and a third from the 

* The English farmers all live in a gentlemanly style, much superior to the 
farmers of New England : but those who do the offices of agriculture, in Englajid, 
zxexht peasant i. We have no peasants in the United States. Peasants, or liindst 
or boors, are not dignified with the name of farmers. 

t At the trial of Despard, the following charge was not the least important, 
which his Lordship alleged against the prisoner, " That he had conspired against 
their most desirable state ef inequality I" 



[ 269 ] 

dawn of refleflion was unprincipled." But this 
mode of reasoning is not better than the West In- 
dia planter's, who complained he had the worst 
slaves in the island, and yet he whipped them the 
most. It is false, nay, abandoned reasoning, to as- 
sert, that, because the majority of any people have 
lost the character of man, they were never capable 
of being good citizens. Human nature has often re- 
trieved her character, in the United States, when 
England has not thought her subjetSls worth hang- 
ing. In short, it is the part of most governments 
to render their subjects bad ; then they have a pre- 
text for rendering them still worse. The man, who 
dies between the hours of eight and nine in the 
morning, before Newgate, little thinks, that possi- 
bly his crimes and his fate are a necessary part of 
that very system which has condemned him. 

A citizen of the United States will naturally ask, 
" How is it possible for such a state of things to 
subsist ? What conne«Sling principle is there to sup- 
port a fabric so enormously disproportionate?" — 
Is not the top of a pyramid as secure as the bottom ? 
Now all civil society partakes in a greater or less de- 
gree of the form of the pyramid. The broader the 
foundation, the more weight it supports, and the 
more secure the ascending column. How can this 



C 270 ] 

evil in society be remedied ? It can be remedied on« 
ly by counteraction. 

In my next letter I shall descend to particulars, 
and perhaps qualify, in some measure, the impres. 
sion which this may give you. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXVL 



LONDON. AUGUST I2th, 

Among the many millions, who cover the, 
face of this Uttle spot of earth, there are many who 
enjoy all that mortals can enjoy, circumscribed on- 
ly by their own dispositions. If the Englishman 
frequently fortifies himself against happiness, and 
sleeps on thorns in the midst of roses, it is hja 
pleasure, whim, or madness. There js certainly 
sufficient affluence in England to give a stranger,, 
from a country like ours, an everlasting impression. 
The eye is not continually turned on misery, nor 
the ear always listening to the tale of distress, nor 
is the heart rendered more hard by unceasing calls 
to commiseration. The sedate countenance, the 
rolling eyes, the careless swing of the arms, and the 
easy step of many of the middling class, discover 
easy circumstances, and a contented heart. While 
the more guarded step, the more costly, though 
careless dress, and more ere6l head of another class, 
discover their self complacency and affluence. The 
simplicity of the quakers does not forbid them to 
display their general prosperity by the best apparel, 



[ 272 ] 

which decently retires from notice, under the mod- 
esty of an unattracling colour. There is still another 
class who never know a want, which is not gratified 
too soon for the utmost pleasure of full fruition. 
These people command the four seasons. If they 
are not happy, they are impious. They have with- 
in their reach tlie ceaseless raptures of a sympathy, 
which is not necessitated to rise in a wish, and ex- 
pire in a sigh. Nor is this class of subjects small ; 
though among nine miUions, it would be difficult to 
find them. These are the natural conclusions of 
my last letter. For if a few rich suppose many 
poor ; on the contrary^ many poor suppose a few 
rich. It is impossible that a cultivated countrj^ 
should not be, at least, partially rich, or that an in- 
dustrious people should be universally poor ; and 
if such a people are, In general, necessitous, neither 
God, nor Nature are to blame, they never meant 
that man should suffer a double curse, lose his 
sweat,* and then lose his bread. 

The English system is not a little alleviated by 
the noble generosity of thousands. The sight of the 
poor does not always revolt the eye of the affluent. 
It is the part of many to relent while oppressing, and 



• Not that I think Adam lost much in being turned out of Paradise. Mod- 
erate labour is the first diftate of nature. The economy of man sufficiently 
proves this— the clrculatiou of the bloodj the beating of his pulses, and the ac- 
tivity of his mind. 



[ 273 ] 

it frequently happens that those who are most inter- 
ested in support of certain principles, are the first 
to countera6l their tendency. The merchants are 
celebrated for their maintenance of charities,* 
founded in voluntary subscription — Tiie generous 
highwayman, sometimes, returns a part of his ex- 
action. 

The condition, in which most of the people of 
England are born, ought to be noticed as a further 
alleviating circumstance. A citizen of the United 
States cannot have a just view of the state of society, 
in this country, unless he is informed that the feel- 
ings of the poor are entirely different from the feel- 
ings of the people of the United States. In Eng- 
land, before they arrive to years of reflection, they 
lose the disposition to refleft. A situation, a hope- 
less situation, which one might suppose would awa- 
ken their souls to agony, and rouse their feelings 
to rebellion, reduces them to torpedo stupidity. 
Hence, the same condition here, which, in the 
United States, a man would shun as the greatest 
misfortune, is a state of contentment, and not unfre- 
quently, an objeCl of desire. This is certainly a 
happy circumstance, and relieves society from 
many who would otherwise become desperate — 

• A multitude of charities and hospitals are a sure mark of ajiation's misery. 

M m 



I 



C 274 3 

The man who is born heir to a wheelbarrow, sel- 
dom aspires to a handcart. 

You continually observe, at the west end of 
the town, one, two, three, and sometimes four, 
men, alwaj^s more than decently, and often elegantly 
dressed, standing behind a carriage, supporting 
themselves with the holders. If it rains, they are 
indulged with umbrellas. These men are frequent- 
ly not more than twenty, or twenty five years of age. 
Their majestic height, broad shoulders, straight 
bodies and taper legs, would have induced Hercules 
to have enlisted them in some of his expeditions. 
Yet these people wear the appearance of the most 
perfe6l contentment. They are pleased with their 
party coloured clothes, and never seem more happy, 
than when they expose themselves to the public. 
Nor is this all ; they claim a sort of distinction, and 
affe6l to look down on the more respectable man, 
who cries cat's meat. 

Another numerous description spend their days 
behind the counter. Such would be more respeCl- 
ably employed in felling wood in the Apalachian 
mountains. They usurp the offices of girls and de- 
prive them of bread, or impel them to prostitution. 
Such, and many others, however contemptible they 
may appear, do not increase the national misery, 
otherwise than as drones. 



[ 275 ] 

The condition of the English women, of the low-» 
est class, attracts particular observation. They are 
habitually occupied in the most laborious offices. 
I have seen a few making bricks, others, chiefly 
Welsh women, carry yokes fastened to their shoul- 
ders, suspending two pails of milk. Others a(?l as 
porters, and not a few follow wheelbarrows, while 
the more hardy, sometimes, lade and unlade ves- J 
sels, or work in the coal mines. Sad oftspring of j 
the woman, of whom it is said, 

Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye. 
In every gesture, dignity and love. 

All this, for aught I know, may be worse in other 
parts of Europe ; but nothing of this was ever seen 
in New England. Do you think it strange that 
women, in such circumstances, should wish to 
unsex themselves ? 

None in England, who are sufficiently honest to 
labour for their daily bread, anticipate a comfortable 
old age, or even look forward to the time when their 
daily bread will not be the price of daily labour. 
They forever tarry on the wrong side of Jordan. 
If they are sick, and the laborious poor are most 
subje<5l to sickness, in one tide of adversity they be- 
come retrogade to society. They are so sensible 
of this, that many reason too justly on their situa- 
tion, and with a determined, abandoned sort of prin- 



[ 276 ] 

ciple, consecrate themselves to resolute debaiches. 
In passing through the suburbs of London, I had 
frequently observed a very industrious man and 
woman making bricks. I had given them six- 
pence,* and sometimes I stopped to talk with them. 
I knew their constant labour, and tJie amount of 
their daily pay. Yet I never heard them complain. 
Surely, thought I, people who are thus contented to 
work all the year and lay up nothing, are valuable 
subje6ts, and very honest folks. Not long since, as 
1 was passing by a publican's, on a Sunday morning, 
I observed both this man and his v/ik laying along 
the floor, buried in forgetfulness. As I returned in 
the evening, I called on the publican, to inquire if 
that was their usual Sunday frolic. The man and 
his vi^ife were still there, senseless. I asked the 
publican, if they had not come to their senses, 
since morning ? " Not quite," said he, " that is the 
kast of their concern : they have two or three times 
recovered themselves just enough to call for more 
liquor." In the course of the week, I observed 
these people at work, as usual, and undertook to re- 
monstrate. Far from being abashed, they hazarded 
a justification : and how do you think they reason- 
ed? They had long endeavoured, they said, to bet- 
ter their circumstances, but found it altogether in 

• Labourers exjiecl a small compiini< nt if you shew them the least attention. 



[ 277 ] 

vain,' for some unforeseen accident had always de- 
prived dieni, in a moment, of the acquirement of 
weeks : that the surgeon* would have their money, 
if the publican did not, and of the two, they rather 
give it to the publican. " But in case of sickness 
what would you do ?" " O," said the woman, re- 
peating the first couplet of an old song, 

" Hang sorrow, and cast away care. 
The parish are bound to find us." 

Another occurrence is not less to the purpose, 
which made a similar impression on me. It was at 
Bristol, where I lately spent a few days. I was pur- 
chasing a pair of boots of a woman whose husband 
kept a shoe store. She appeared to be a notable 
sort of a woman, and I congratulated her on her 
seeming flourishing circumstances : " Ah, sir," said 
she, " we should do very well, if the price of labour 
was not so high. Indeed, sir, we are obliged to give 
our journeyman so much money, that it ruins them, 
and they are drunk one half of their time, and not fit 
to work the other half." — This was after I had pur- 
chased the boots — I have forgotten how much she 
told me their weekly pay amounted to, but I en- 
deavoured to convince her, that it was impossible 
for them with double the wages to maintain a small 



* The physicians are not answerable for the death of the poor : that is the con- 
cern of the «urgeon and apothecary. 



r 278 ] 

family. *' Ah," replied the good woman, " what 
would they do with a family ? They cannot take 
care of themselves. " But if they had less wages, do 
you think they would do better ? *' Certainly," she 
replied, " they would then mind their business, and 
not get drunk." I said no more, and she thought 
she had the best of the argument. 

Now, ought we to wonder, if most of the labour- 
ers and manufa6lurers are drunkards ? Those, who 
drink most, eat least ; and it costs them less to get 
drunk, than it does to fill their bellies with whole- 
some provision. 

Another instance is not less illustrative. I attend- 
ed the trials at the Old Bailey. A prisoner was tri- 
ed on a capital indictment and acquitted. My own 
heart bounded with joy; but he heard the verdi6t 
Not Guilty pronounced with as much indifference, 
as I have seen others receive the sentence of death. 
This surprised me, for his acquittal vras unexpeft- 
ed, and ought to have excited his happiest feelings. 
He was immediately discharged, and I followed 
him out of court, questioning the cause of his ap- 
parent unconcern. He replied with contemptuous 
apathy, " How do I know how soon it may be that 
I shall have to go through this disagreeable business 
again ?" This explained the secret why so many 
criminals, in England, die so heroically — They 
for see their fate, and die their natural cjeath. 



[ 279 ] 

Perhaps I have descended, in these notices, too 
frequently to low life ; but the circles in which the 
great and little move are of very different circum- 
ference. Should one frequent the company of the 
great, only, and bound his views within the pur- 
lieus of St. James', he would, doubdess, describe 
England a paradise : but he would know no more 
of the people, than he would of the Romans from 
reading the lives of Caesar, Cato and Pompeyi* 
But should he travel in the Pythagorean style, con- 
versing with every man he met, and comparing the 
generality of Englishman with their race of horses, 
he would pronounce the condition of the latter pref- 
erable to that of the former. I speak this with 
guarded caution, conscious of its wanton iiliberality 
if not corre<Sl. But I believe no one, who has ever 
made the comparison, will hesitate tu pronounce the 
English horses to be better fed than the English sub- 
jects.! A writer, Colquhoun, whom I have quoted 
before, says, " The commutation of perpetual la- 
bour for the price of life is thought too severe by the 
legislature. A moment's reflection, however, will 
shew that, in point of manual labour, the hardship to 

• No one from reading the history of these men, would suppose Rome contaia- 
•d five hundred inhabitants : so easy is it to overlook a million of people ! 

t Dodlor Buchan, in a late treatise, has thought bread too good for the poor ; 
and has offered a cheaper substitute. I wonder why the Dodtor did Rot propose 
saw dust : it makes an excellent padding when well boiled. 



[ 280 ] 

be imposed is no more than every honest artisan, 
who works industriously for his family, must^ dur- 
ing the whole course of his I'lfe^ impose on himself. 
The condition of a coni^'ict would, in some respects, 
he superior, inasmuch as he would have medical as- 
sistance, and other advantages tending to the pres- 
ervation of health, which do not attach to the lowest 
classes of the people." I will not coincide with all 
this, but I go near to assert that, had Mr. Bruce, in 
Abyssinia, or had Mr. Park, in Africa, discovered 
a people in the same situation with those of whom 
Mr. Colqulioun speaks, I will do the English the 
justice to believe they would instandy open sub- 
scriptions, and enterprise an expedition to their re- 
lief : yes, even to the source of the Nile. 

I have found it impossible in this sketch, to avoid 
several seemingfrinconsistencies. The English sys- 
tem is perhaps the most intricate labyrinth in which 
any people ever found themselves involved. Man 
is the creature of the government under which he 
lives : from that he takes his disposition, his car- 
riage, his sentiments, his vices and virtues. If the 
government be complicated, the motives, from 
which the people a<St, will often appear extraordina- 
ry, while in reality, they may be founded in secret 
reason, or absolute necessity. I have told you 
the English are exceedingly humane and charita- 



C 281 ] 

ble,* yet the poor fare worse than their horses. I have 
observed, that the merchants are nobly dispositioned, 
yet their commercial spirit obliges them to become 
hard and oppressive. They would be among the 
first to support the cause of liberty at home ; so they 
would be among the first to support the cause of 
slavery abroad. Their natural dispositions are 
good, they are villains from principle. I have, in 
former letters, more than once observed, that the 
English populace discovered frequent marks of a 
free people, while at the same moment, you are 
ready to pronounce them slaves. No one can com- 
prehend the cause of these inconsistencies, unless he 
takes an extensive view of the various operation of 
the English system, which distorts the subje^l into 
more shapes, than the imagination can figure in the 
clouds of evening. 

Would to God, I might be heard across the At- 
lantic ! I would proclaim to my fellow citizens their 
proud preeminence in the ranks of civil societj'. I 
would shew them the constitution of England, fair 



• The English claim the merit of being the most generous and humane people 
in the world. Their public and private history certainly discover them under very 
different aspefts. If one knew nothing of this people except from their public his- 
tory, he would suppose every Englishman walked the streets with a club on his shoul* 
der. The truth is, John Bull his a foiole ; you must appeal to his humanity, if you 
wish to soften him, otherwise, he will often resist the soundest reason. Many of 
our own people are strongly prejudiced against the English. This originated in the 
American Revolution, butit was not the EnxHsJi character that 'was ditestAtU, it 
was the EngUili system. 

N n 



[ 282 J 

in theory, as the divine forms of Plato ; in operation 
on the great mass of siibjecSls, as different from the 
constitution of the United States, as the condition 
of the English peasant is different from that of the 
Green Mountain farmer. I would impress on them 
the futility of a government, which affciSls liberty on 
the hereditary principle, which reduces the people 
to beggary, and, like the crocodile, devours its own 
offspring. I would conjure them by retrospective 
happiness and future prospe6l, to cherish that con- 
stitution which produces men, which is more pow- 
erful than despotism in restraining the worst, and 
all efficient in exciting the best, tendencies of man. 
I would say to the citizens of the United States, be 
constant to yourselves, you have nothing to fear 
from your constitution — But your constitution has 
eiicry thing to fear from you. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXVII. 

LONDOK, JVCUST iid. 

JlLrskine, Gibbs, and Garrow, are the three 
most powerful speakers in the courts of law. 

The person of Erskine is slender, his height not 
exceeding the common size, his complexion sallow, 
his hair dark, his face oval, and a little emaciated, 
the lower part of his forehead prominent, yet gradu- 
ally retreating, his eyebrows full, a little perplexed, 
seated near his eyes, Aihich are hazel, open and 
conciliatory, his nose, narrow between the eyes, 
yet perfectly congenial, neither too large nor too 
small, his mouth gently closed, seeming ready to 
await the di£tates of his tongue, yet not large 
enough to give his eloquence its just tone, his lips 
thin, meeting in union, and when irritated, rather 
inclining to retreat, than proje6l, his chin, gently re- 
treating, which, in conjun61ion with his forehead, 
bespeaks the man firm, yet modest, positive, yet 
ingenuous. 

His countenance, when in a state of repose, is 
prepossessing, but when he speaks, his gestures are 
rhetoric ; his looks, persuasion ; his voice, elo- 



[ 284 ] 

queiice : in the glow of animation, commanding, 
but in the moment of passion, when self convinced, 
he is pure intelligence : disdaining every by-road 
to convi6lion, he strips the cause of all its surround- 
ing circumstances, places it on its own position, 
true to nature, paints it visibly to the eye, and buries 
in oblivion every interfering particular. Both 
judge and jury are prostrate in chains. It is the 
contention of principle, no matter whose, or what 
the interest, if heaven were concerned, it is still the 
contention of principle. Of all causes which could 
arise, the present seems to involve the deepest con- 
sequences : there is no distinction now between 
the great and the little, every thing but the point in 
question is forgotten ; Erskine and his cause are 
sovereign over all. Now flows the fountain of jus- 
tice, now are explored the recesses of iniquity, now 
are the deep foundations of fraud broken up. His 
eloquence becomes a torrent which sweeps away 
every mound which art or subterfuge had raised : 
no longer has the law a single hard feature ; no per- 
plexities, no uncertainties, no idle evasions ! Sa- 
turnian Jove descends with his equal scales, cun- 
ning retires in shame, oppression lets go its vi6lim, 
and innocence is seated on the throne of equity. 
At length, Erskine himself, by degrees is forgotten, 
and forgets himself; he rises to an effort not his own, 



[ 285 ] 

and sinks under superior feelings, while the judge 
and jury, convinced even to enthusiasm, are impa- 
tient to withhold the verdi6t. 

O, sacred tribunal ! guarded in the spotless er- 
mine* of justice. O, hallowed walls ! where party 
spirit never enters, where the oppressed breathe an 
etherial element. O, glorious institution ! which 
chains the passions of men, and checks the exac- 
tions of self interest, by the intervention of a jury. 
O, venerable judges ! whose sacred office knows 
no bias, whose sympathy is never wakened but in 
the cause of humanity. 

I know not with whom of the orators of antiqui- 
ty to compare Erskine. He possesses neither the 
voice, nerve, nor vehemence of Demosthenes ; but 
he has more cordiality : the audience of Demosthe- 
nes is driven, you see the goad, that of Erskine fol- 
lows, you see the leading string. While the one 
shews both of his hands clenched, you see tlie 
arms of the other extended. While Demosthenes 
stamps with his feet, Erskine only shews his arms 
akimbo : while the one assumes a look of defiance, 
the other pauses a moment, with open eyes. He 
has all the grace and elegance of Tully, and, like 
Tully, is anxious in a qualifying exordium, to round 
all the angular points of his cause. He has less art, 

* The robes of the judges are faced with ermine. 



[ 286 ] 

is more rapid, more earnest, more original than Tul- 
ly, and if the periods of the Roman are more majes- 
tic, than those of the Scotchman, Erskine's is the 
fault of the Enghsh language. Yet he has not Tul- 
ly's reach of learning, though I suspcQ, in case of a 
surprise, Erskine's readiness would extricate him, 
when the Roman would sink under tlic weight of his 
own erudition. He has not the coiifidence nor the 
grandeur of Pericles, but .lie attaches j'ou quicker. 
Pericles is willing to impose on you, Erskine's first 
concern is to make friends. ^Vhile Pericles is 
throwing the gauntlet, Erskine is on the defensive, 
watching the moment of doubt or indifference, 
beckoning. Imperative, the one stands ere6l, and 
will take nothing which he cannot extort : submis- 
sive, the other inclines forward and appeals to im- 
partial justice. 

Erskine will suffer nothing on being examined as 
a ilian : his profession has not defaced his original 
features of greatness. When engaged in a weak or 
unjust cause, he never sacrifices his hardihood of 
honour, to the views of his client. He says all that 
ought to be said ; yet never commits his own digni- 
ty by urging a corrupt principle. You see nothing 
of the attorney, Erskine is a counsellor : you see no 
partizan of petty advantages, Erskine is a gen- 
tleman. 



[ 287 3 

He is serious, or witty, at pleasure, and when the 
occasion offers, and he is disposed to descend, he 
can, hke Roscius, turn off a case in pantomime. 
Among the tliousand a6lions which are presented 
him, some appear, on trial, to have^ originated in 
mirth, and others, in impudence : this Proteus, is 
ready in a moment to throw off the professional bus- 
kin and tread the sock. 

I have followed Erskine to the House of Com- 
mons, forming to my mind the attitude of a man, 
treading empires under his feet, and holding in his 
hands the destinies of the world. If, in a petty 
court of law, he could move heaven in behalf of a 
poor orphan, or an oppressed widow, surely in ptes- 
ence of the British parliament, when the fate of na- 
tions is depending, the front of opposition must cow- 
er beneath his frown, or follow in the wake of his 
triumphant path. But the moment he enters par- 
liament he disappears. He is only one among five 
hundred. An Arab would never kill Erskine, un- 
less he caught him in his gown, band and wig ;* 
with these he seems to put off his whole virtue. 
As a statesman, Erskine is nothing. I do not say 
he is a great man in a little room ; but Erskine, ad- 
dressing twelve men, in a court of- law, and in the 



* The English lawyers are dressed, when iii court, in a gown, (black} b^id 
and tie wig. 



[ 288 ] 

British parliament, addressing the speaker in behalf 
of the nation, is not the same man. He commences, 
indeed, on a broad foundation, but ascends, like a 
pyramid, and either produces an abortion, or at- 
tains to the point, and terminates where he should 
have begun. In parliament, he discovers nothing 
of that copious precision, that ascending order, that 
captivating fluency, that earnest convidlion, which, 
at the bar, stamp him Erskine. In parliament, he 
labours with a harrow through the impediments of 
politics ; now it catches hold of Pitt, then it inter- 
feres with a straggling limb of Hawkesbury, now it 
tears away the skirts of Addington, presently it is to 
be lifted over the body of Windham. He con- 
cludes, and the impression which he made is alrea- 
dy effaced. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXVIII. 



LONDOK, AUGUST 2Sth. 

L HE person of Gibbs is diminutive, his ap- 
pearance contemptible ; he has not a single strong 
mark of charatSter, except a sagacious eye. There 
is nothing engaging in his looks, he rather re- 
pels, than attradls, but all his defe6ls are forgotten, 
the moment he opens his mouth. Gibbs is, doubt- 
less, the greatest lawyer in England. In a common 
case, he sinks under Erskine and Garrovv, but in a 
cause which involves first principles, where there is 
no room for the trappings of eloquence, where pas- 
sion is vain, where digression weakens, where em- 
bellishment is suspicious, he commands admiration, 
and pens up Erskine in a corner, and not unfre- 
quently makes him stammer. 

In addressing a jury, Gibbs is second ; but second 
only to Erskine and Garrow. He neither understands 
human nature so well, nor can he sift chara61er, nor 
can he insinuate himself and take advantage of a for- 
tunate moment. He has no conception of the ex- 
tremes of virtue and vice ; he measures every thing 
with his compasses, but he is sure of his dimensions. 
© o 



[ 290 ] 

You make it merely a case of conscience to agree with 
him, yet he never lets you go, until he has secured 
you, though he never thanks you for a verdi6l, well 
knowing you would not have given it, had he not 
compelled you. Sometimes, though rarely, he at- 
tains to eloquence not inferior to Erskine's, and 
then he is sure of his cause, for what can resist the 
arguments of Gibbs, backed with the eloquence of 
Erskine ? Yet his eloquence is not an expansive el- 
oquence, because it is not the eloquence of the heart, 
but that of the head. He cannot look all the jury in 
the face at the same moment ; he does not regard 
the jury as one man, he feels as though he had twelve 
persons to convince : different from Erskine, who 
addresses the whole twelve, and persuades each in- 
dividual that he is sohcitous to convince him in par- 
ticular. With Gibbs, human nature varies in dif- 
ferent men, Erskine finds the tie of connexion, 
which governs the whole. While the one is labour- 
ing his point, the other has already touched you with 
his wand. Gibbs, like his countrymen, effetSls all 
that he does effedl, by main force. Erskine and 
Garrow are dancing on the top of the fortification, 
while Gibbs is mining the foundation, and before 
Gibbs enters the city, it is already sacked. I speak 
of these great men addressing a jury : in addressing 
the judges, before whom nothing but law and argu- 
ment can avail, or will be heard, before whom, the 



t 291 ] 

most eloquent might as well speak in the dark, 
Gibbs rises preeminent. He assumes nothing, yet 
you perceive the very deportment of his body be- 
speaks a man sure of himself, who has sounded his 
position, and who stands ready to grasp the whole 
common law of England. When Gibbs shews 
himself before the judges, Garrow is out of court, or 
sits with his calimanco bag tied up, and Erskine, 
his antagonist, is as anxious and as busy as a gener- 
al, fearful of a surprise. 

The deeper the case, the more perplexed, the 
more original, and involved in law learning, the 
more firm his position, he is secure in himself, and 
less cautious of his competitor. He rises with a 
solemnity and moderation, which impress every 
one. His voice is strong, slow and well articulated ; 
perfe6lly suited to a man, who, in pursuit of the 
light of reason, is willing that every word should be 
judged by the rules of precision. Without the ap- 
pearance of arrangement, he has all the elegance of 
method, luminous, you see his path through the wil- 
derness of the law, while in his rear follows a stream 
of connexion, thus attaining to all the interest of 
historical order, he gradually convinces until he 
challenges all he demanded. 

His gestures are moderate, his countenance is nev- 
er impassioned, he is never, like Erskine, agitated : 
he uses but one arm, and that never in a waving line : 



[ 292 ] 

his person is scarcely big enough to wield the 
weight of his mind. He admits little illustration, 
but depends on his last argument to illustrate the 
former. He never condescends to be witty, de- 
spises embellishment, would trample on all the flow- 
ers of May, discovers no learning foreign to the 
case, and indulges in no sally, except a strong 
and overwhelming irony, correspondent with the 
strength of his reasoning. In these moments, Ers- 
kine's self retires before him, like the shadow, 
which you have sometimes seen in a cloudy day, 
retreating over the hills, before the invading pres- 
ence of the sun. But Erskine in his turn, rallies 
himself, and easily persuades all, that except in that 
particular case, he is superior to Gibbs, and though 
vanquished, he is prepared for another combat. 

The judges, as judges, have doubtless, most rev- 
erence for Gibbs ; it is evident they look up to him 
with veneration, and are disposed to suspe61: their 
own, rather than his judgment. Yet this man, a 
plebeian, is candidate for nothing. While Erskine, 
the son of an Earl, is candidate for the Lord High 
Chancellorship. 1 say not this in disrespect to Ers- 
kine, who honours England more than England can 
ever honour him. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XXXIX. 

LONDON, SEPTEMBER sth. 

v_T ARROW is not a lawyer, nor is he, in the ex- 
tensive sense of the word, an orator ; yet not less 
extraordinary, than Erskine or Gibbs. 

His person is respe6lable, rather rawboned, his 
face a square flat, his complexion a dry, brown red, 
his forehead high, whicli appears higher through a 
total defe6l of eyebrows, his chin is triangular, and 
a little prominent. 

I am not sure that I have been corre6lIy inform- 
ed ; if I have, the history of this man is singular. 
Garrow, the son of a country clergyman, was consid- 
ered in his childhood, a dead weight on society. 
Until the age of thirteen he was a cowboy ; and at 
that age, his intellects promised nothing. His fath- 
er sent him, about that period, at a venture, to Lon- 
don. What occupation he followed I know not ; 
but he found his way at length to the nightly debat- 
ing societies, at which he soon discovered a wonder- 
ful readiness in reply, and a copious flow of original 
matter, whicli his want of education rendered all his 
own. 



[ 294 3 

He entered on the study of the law, I suspe6l, un- 
der unfavourable circumstances, for he commenced 
at the Old Bailey. Hence, if human nature wore 
but one aspect, Garrow would naturally paint it 
black — Most men in the profession of law, if they 
have ability, attain eminence by degrees. A law- 
yer never appears full grown at once, like an air bal- 
loon, or a new created Lord. He is obliged to ar- 
rive at certainty through the labyrinths of uncertain- 
ty. Garrow, though he became famous, soon as he 
shewed himself, did not depend on his acquisitions, 
for celebrity. 

As counsellor for felons* at the Old Bailey, he 
was necessarily a spe6lator of human depravity, from 
its first moment of lax principle to the last degree of 
abandoned pra6lice. The criminal code of law, in 
this country, is so disproportioned, so barbarous, so 
unnatural, that Garrow might frequently deem it a 
matter of principle to save the guilty. Hence, the 
more desperate the situation of the felon, the more 
severely would he tax his ingenuity. 

I will give you two instances, the latter of which 
myself heard Garrow relate in the King's Bench. 
The first occurred in a criminal, the other in a civil, 
a6lion. 

• I have hinted before, that a felon is not allowed counsel to address the jury in 
his behalf ; but he is allowed counsel to cross examine the evidence, and to take eve- 
ry possible advantage which may offer. 



[ 295 ] 

A domestic, some years since, was indi^led for 
robbing his master. The law in this case, is death, 
and justice, in general, inexorable. The prisoner 
had no hope, except in Garrow. He had robbed 
his master of several guineas, they were all found on 
his person, and to render his case desperate, they 
Iiad been marked, and the master was ready to at- 
test to their identity. Garrow questioned the pris- 
oner, if he could mark another guinea in a similar 
manner ? The prisoner marked one, and Garrow 
left him, observing he might begin to repent, for he 
could not positively answer for his acquittal. 

On the day of trial, just before the master of the 
prisoner was about to swear to the guineas, Garrow 
desired to look at them^ and cautioning the witness 
not to swear to money, as it was so frequently mark- 
ed, requested the spectators if they had any guineas 
in their pockets, to lend them to him. In a moment 
he had a handful : 'twas so contrived. He shuffled 
them together, and presenting them to the witness 
desired him to sele6l his own. The witness hesita- 
ted, and being pressed by Garrow, did not venture 
to identify. The prisoner was acquitted. It ap- 
peared afterwards, that Garrow in presenting the 
handful of guineas, had withholden those which had 
been stolen. 



[ 296 ] 

The other instance was of late occurrence. A 
Will was set up, suspe6led to be a forgery. One 
of the subscribing witnesses, in giving his evidence, 
observed that an EngUsh shiUing was placed under 
the seal. The judge called for the Will, broke the 
seal, and found the shilling. This was not conclu- 
sive in Garrow's opinion ; he desired to look at the 
shilling. Fortunately it was not worn so smooth 
but that the date might be discerned ; by which it 
appeared the shilling was coined long after the Will 
purported to han^e been made. 

Garrow, while at the Old Bailey, was an impedi- 
ment in the way of justice. The onlj'- remedy was 
to make him a king's counsellor. This placed him 
at once, beside Erskine, Gibbs, Dallas and Park, in 
the King's Bench. The sagacity which distinguish- 
ed him in criminal cases, followed him to the more 
ample field of litigation. There, amidst the intrica- 
cies of self interest, fraud and cunning, he divests 
the cause of every assumed colour, or as readily ex- 
tricates suffering innocence from the fangs of the 
oppressor. His wonderful knowledge of human na- 
ture is only equalled by his facility of entering into 
the feelings, views and condu(5l of mankind under 
all circumstances. He is a perfect master of the 
do6lrine of the probabilities of human condudl, 
while the variety of causes which Guildhall aflfords, 



[ 297 ] 

gives him an extensive view, broad as the relations 
of society. He is a metaphysician, and what is 
more, knows how to reduce his metaphysics to 
common sense, and to the purposes of common Hfe. 
No casuist could enter more sagaciously into the 
theory of the will, mothe, degree of necessity, and 
so palpably distinguish between the 7iecessary, the 
indifferent, and the perverse of human a^lion. But 
his chief excellence consists in impressing on the 
jury a full and distinct apprehension of the merits of 
the case. It is the fault of some great lawyers to 
enter too deeply into their causes : they injure them 
by attempting, before the jury, to give them a false 
importance. Garrow, on the contrary, compre- 
hends with a glance, just how much the case will 
bear, and to what length he may presume on the ju- 
ry. Then, after a clear and precise opening of the 
cause, in which is contained the real outlines, which 
he knows his evidence will support, he rises in a 
moment to the middle style of eloquence, and with 
a fluency, surpassing Erskine's, turns his back on 
the judge, and worms himself into the common sense 
of the jury, with whom he never hazards a dubious 
point, by urging it beyond the fair bounds of plausi- 
bility. Here he takes his stand : by resting his 
case on their own competency, he pays deference, 
and engages their self love, while, without any con- 
pp 



[ 298 ] 

siderable effort on their part, they follow him at 
their ease. Never, like Gibbs and Erskine, does 
he address himself partly to the judge and partly to 
the jury ; but he seems to leap over the bar, forgets 
fulofall the solemnities of his profession, into the 
midst of the jury, his fellows ; himself at their head, 
a sagacious pointer, they are ready to follow from 
White Chapel to HyHe Park. 

Nothing great, no sublime apostrophes, no appeal 
to the passions, no distra6ling digressions, no learn- 
ing, not even law learning, trouble the pure stream 
of his eloquence. With the rapidity of lightning he 
touches on all the important points, throwing out 
with one hand and establisliing with the other, what- 
ever is immaterial or substantial : thus he lays be- 
fore the jury, the marrow of the cause, and lest he 
should obscure it with circumlocution, when he has 
said all that the jury can bear, Garrow appears to be 
exhausted. 

He attaches more surely, than Erskine himself. 
The latter sometimes strains the feelings too high : 
amidst a world of matter, he is in danger of losing 
sight of the question. Garrow never yet wantoned 
to the prejudice of his client. He never like the 
eagle, ascends to the sun, but he never forgets his 
pursuit to chase butterflies. Though his style of 
speaking and tone of voice are always the same, yet 



[ 299 ] 

his penetration is so subtle, and his conclusions so 
natural, that he succeeds in convincing the jury he 
is only elucidating their own sentiments. Thus, 
whatever he gains, instantly becomes a part of the 
verdi6l ; no matter, whether right or wrong, that is 
the judge's, not his concern. 

Doubtless, Garrow is the first man at the bar, 
when the a^lion is involved in dry matter of fa6l: 
for then, fearless of being put down by law authori- 
ties, he can give a loose to his own ingenuity ; and 
as no man ever had more producible common 
sense, so no man was ever so capable of applying it 
so well. No man ever had a clearer mind, which 
though not deep, embraces the extremes of sagacity, 
foresight and probability. He is like the beds of 
those rivers, of which, though you can see to the 
bottom, you see nothing but golden sands. 

To distinguish between Gibbs, Garrow, and Ers- 
kine, I should say, Gibbs is a man of a powerful 
mind, Garrow an extraordinary man, and Erskinc 
a man of genius. To compare them with our 
New England lawyers, I should say Dexter was 
the most like Gibbs, Otis most like Garrow, and 
Erskine — I know not with whom to compare him ; 
he is a partial assemblage of the other four. 

Adieu. 



LETTER XL. 



LOyDON, SEPTEMBER iSth. 

\Jn the subje6l of the English orators I 
should prefer to be silent, rather than to confine my- 
self within the bounds of a letter. However, I will 
attempt a sketch of the principal speakers. 

From that predominant class of contending men 
in the House of Commons, I might sele6l Pitt, 
Fox, Windham, Sheridan, Wilberforce, Grey, 
Tierney, Castlereagh, Hawkesbury, Corry, Ad- 
dington. 

The chara6lers of these men, as orators, are well 
known in the United States, and particularly so to 
you. I shall, therefore, confine myself to the three 
first, Pitt, Fox, Windham. Sheridan I would have 
included, but I have heard him speak but twice, and 
then he left no impression. He has taken no part 
in any important debate which I have attended, but 
has sitten in his seat, silent, reserved, looking ear- 
nestly toward the treasury bench, seemingly dubi- 
ous of his former principles, which have left him as 
poor as his old client the Nabob of Arcot. 



[ 301 ] 

Mr. Pitt still rises with an ease, composure and 
assurance, indicative of former influence, while the 
House, conscious of his presence, are disposed to 
give him all that attention as a member, which he 
once commanded as a minister ; and though he is, 
at present, a fallen statesman, he sustains a chara6ter 
none the less ascendant as a man ; so that his ene^ 
mies are not willing to approach nigher plain Mr. 
Pitt, than they did the once arbiter of the kingdom. 

The station which Mr. Pitt has supported so long 
has given his eloquence a peculiar turn, and even 
rendered his character ostensibly cold, hard, and 
bordering on dry inhumanity. The political calcu- 
lator, always in search of expedients, from habit re- 
gards mankind mechanically, and sooner or later be- 
comes impenetrable to the first dictates of nature, 
and sublimely overlooks every obstacle which might 
impede his course. A prime minister of Great 
Britain, must of necessity, if he continues long in 
office, familiarise himself to deeds, which in their 
extensive consequences, render comparatively 
harmless the whole crimes of the decalogue. In 
fa6l, Mr. Pitt's eloquence discovers a frigid, palliat- 
ing, defensive, yet positive, character. It has ever 
been sufficient for him to maintain his ground : not 
to be driven from his post has been to gain the vie- 



[ 302 ] 

tory. At this day, he addresses the speaker as 
though the confli6l was still between himself and 
his great antagonist, Fox, while Addington is forgot- 
ten, and forgets that he is minister. 

Had Mr. Pitt laboured his days in the opposition, 
he would have discovered himself a much greater 
orator, and a much nobler man. Ever on the de- 
fensive, he has naturally fallen into a confined uni- 
formity, which has seldom permitted him to take 
excursion beyond the tedious business of office, at 
the same time, the system of government, forcing 
the current of business to mingle itself with the 
sighs, tears and groans of the nation, has rendered 
him officially obnoxious to the people, and afforded 
his parliamentary enemies the fairest pretences of 
attack. Once, indeed, Mr. Pitt found himself on 
the side of humanity, and shone conspicuously 
among Fox. Burke, Wilberforce and others. But 
singular as it may appear, he that once found him- 
self in a minority. I speak of the famous motion of 
Wilberforce, for the abolition of the slave trade. 
Under these circumstances, the members of the 
opposition have every advantage, not only of popu- 
lar respedl, but of humanity, and consequently of 
oratory : for true eloquence must be bottomed on 
the honest feeUngs of nature. But a prime minis- 
ter has already closed every pore to the glow of hu- 



[ 303 ] 

manity, before he ventures to open the budget.* 
Hence, he is cut off from the most fruitful source of 
' eloquence. No appeal to the passions, no earnest 
supplication, no sympathy with distress, no palpita- 
tion of the heart, render him dear to the people, and 
soften his exa^lions. He comes into the House, 
impelled by inexorable necessity, and boldly expos- 
es himself lo the whole artillery of the opposition, 
knowing the final result of the question. But all 
this confidence in his numbers, does not suffer him 
to remit the severest exercise of his own powers, 
in order to give at least, plausibility, to his most 
suspicious measures. Hence, it may be easily im- 
agined that, before any important step is taken, the 
treasury bench have already been summoned to 
weigh every difficulty, which the opposition might 
possibly raise. Thus, such men as Fox, Sheridan, 
Grey, have the honour of being answered twice. 
But Fox is so various, rapid, and overwhelming, 
that he frequently loses the whole ministry, who, 
long since ripe for the question, are happy to be re- 
leased by the last resort of the minister — I mean his 
majority. 
From these observations, you will easily colle^Sl 



•Budget, apolitical cant word for the yearly estimate of expenses. I saw 
Mr. Addington open one of his budgets, and I imagined I heard the groans of a 
hundred million people.. 



[ 304 ] 

what the style of Pitt and Fox will probably be ; 
still, each of them preserves a distiniSl chara6ler. 

Mr. Pitt is the most cool, perspicuous, dignified, 
and fluent speaker, who ever rose in a deliberative 
assembly. The moment he is expelled, a solemn 
stillness pervades the House, and while his presence 
is felt, his adversaries lose all their influence. His 
manner is jrentlf* and uuaaaunnng, nis gestures, 
moderate and conciliatory, his voice, musical, clear 
and distinct ; his words, most happily selected, with- 
out the least appearance of selection, flow in an un- 
ruffled, uniform stream, always sufficiently rapid to 
interest, and frequently, to command attention. 
With these advantages he opens upon the House, a 
mind veteran in politics, and as extensive as the va- 
rious relations of the empire. Nor is he deficient, 
though sparing, of the illustrations of modern sci- 
ence, and the embcUiahmcuts of aiiclcat literature. 
With a mind thus adorned by nature, thus disci- 
plined by art, and habitually cool and determined, 
no wonder he discovers, on all occasions, a reach 
far beyond the attainment of ordinary men. A 
mighty kingdom he still seems to support, nor does 
he sink under the weight, while the fallen statesman 
is yet willing to hazard his former immense respon- 
sibility. Doubtless, no mortal, in a British House 
of Commons, could support such a weight of char- 



[ 305 ] 

a€ler, unless his preeminent abilities had first given 
him a necessary weight, and then that weight of 
character had again seconded his abilities. 

His chief excellence consists in imposing a full 
confidence in his own capacity : then he places you 
at a due distance, perfe^lly at your ease, and no 
matter whether he is right or wrong, you are 
loath to interrupt the copious stream of his elo- 
quence, which flows with such a felicity of connex- 
ion, and concludes with such an elegant compa6l- 
ness, that you fancy you have been listening to an 
oracle, whose words, diftated in the harmony of 
numbers, carry a divine influence. No breaks, no 
exclamations, no agitation, no violence of expres- 
sion mark his course, ruffle his temper, or disturb 
the spell. Never, like the column of Niagara, does 
he astonish by his headlong torrent, falling, spark- 
ling, and spreading wide its foam : he preserves his 
natural and deep channel. He fixes you, it is true, 
and you are satisfied while under the power of his 
words, but the moment he concludes, the impres- 
sion is gone, and you are ready to dispute him. 
The reason is, Pitt's eloquence is the eloquence of 
the head, and not the eloquence of the heart. He is 
cold as tlie northern regions, and dry as the deserts 
of Arabia. He is afraid to tempt his feelings, lest 
his heart should betray his head. Hence, he is 



[ 306 ] 

sparing of ornament, suspicious of moral digression, 
and fearful of an appeal to the passions. 

Destitute, at present, of the pioneers of the treas- 
ury bench, he stands self supported, and seems to 
plant himself in a narrow defile, prepared to oppose 
all who may come that way : and though he sees 
his adversaries from far, some, like Fox, approach- 
ing dire61:ly, others scouring along the declivities, 
and a few subaltern partisans, who retreat the mo- 
ment their heads are discovered over the hills, he 
maintains his ground, although his accustomed ar- 
mour renders him incapable of varying his weapons, 
while his mechanical movements forbid him to pur- 
sue the enemy. 

Fox appears in the House of Commons under 
the most favourable impressions, which a man, am- 
bitious of the orator, can desire. He commands the 
awe, if not admiration of the ministry, steals into the 
afife6lions of the indifferent, and carries with him the 
enthusiasm of his friends. How can it be other- 
wise ! His heart is labouring, and full, before he ris- 
es. Consistent from the beginning, his sincerity is 
never doubted, and thus is he always in possession 
of the foreground : and though he frequently 
breaks out in sudden abruptness, the beginning of 
his last speech forever seems the conclusion of his 
former. So that his whole political life has been one 



[ 307 ] 

conne6led flow of eloquence, here only a narrow 
stream, and there scarcely flowing at all, but on ev- 
ery great occasion, collecting itself to a torrent, and 
wide rushing in a lengtliened volume, no\v breaking 
over rocks and precipices, and now making its own 
channel through the laboured mounds, which his 
busy competitors had reared, sweeping all away, 
and, not unfreQuently, overwhelming his enemies, 
and leaving their dead bodies floating far behind. 

In vain will a king of Great Britain draw a line 
over the name of such a man ! If no longer prhy 
counsellor, fie is counsellor of the nation ! It is impos- 
sible to oppress or humble such a man ; wherever 
he treads, he must leave an indelible impression ; 
whatever he does, becomes a part of his country's 
history, and whatever he says must descend to pos- 
terity. 

Though slovenly in his appearance, unwieldy in 
his person, and ungracious in his manners, though 
his voice is disagreeably shrill, his words frequently 
indistin6l, and his a6lion generally embarrassed, 
yet he has scarcely begun, before you are solicitous 
to approach nearer the man. In the midst of pas- 
sion, which sometimes agitates him until he pants 
high, he discovers so much gentleness of temper, 
and so little personal feeling, that a stranger might 
easily imagine he saw this man among the gods, un- 



[ 308 ] 

incumbered with any mortal afte<5lion, debating for 
the good of mankind. So much pure principle, 
natural sagacity, strong argument, noble feeling, 
adorned with the choicest festoons of ancient and 
modern literature, and all these issuing from a 
source, hitherto inexhaustible, never distinguished 

a man like this If heaven did not render nations 

mad, before she destroyed them, the voice of Fox, 
raising itself in the midst of corruption, false poH- 
tics, and the abuses of a full century, would yet be 
heard. 

With these advantages of consistency, of integrity, 
of political sagacity, of irresistible, lengthened ar- 
gument, no wonder, though he never condescends 
to personality, if all those over whom the influence 
of corruption has passed, shrink under his presence. 
They have nothing to fear. Fox never descends 
from the summit of his reputation ; he feels himself 
in the midst of Europe ; he knows he has long been 
a spe6lacle both to his own, and the neighbouring 
nations, and standing in the midst of Europe, he 
seems to hold in one hand the scroll of his past life, 
while his eye, accompanied with a great look, pierc- 
es down to posterity in pledge of future constancy. 

Pitt you are willing to hear until he is exhausted. 
But Fox first lays down an interesting position, fix- 
es your earnest regard, and attaches you wholly to 



[ 309 ] 

himself; then, by the rapidity of his utterance, hur- 
ries you on, not to immediate convi6lion, for he is 
sure the minds of all are pressing forward, and there- 
by he is enabled, fearless of presuming on their pa- 
tience, to give a loose to his feelings, to his genius, to 
his learning, all which united, and mingling and as- 
sisting each other, give a force to his arguments, ir- 
resistible, and would confound all distinction be- 
tween his friends and enemies, did not Pitt, at these 
moments, the sole support of his party, rising midst 
the calm and silence of the solemn impression, recal 
to a new conflidl the dubious feelings of his majority. 

Fox, in one respe6l, will forever be esteemed 
above his cotemporaries. Though he has grown 
gray in the opposition, he has never made one per- 
sonal enemy. At the end of a twenty year's con- 
tention, he is still considered a man of a noble dispo- 
sition, and still maintains the influence of his former 
days, both in the momciit of debate, and with the 
nation at large. 

Mr. Windham is not an orator of that command- 
ing presence which fixes confidence, or attaches a 
party. But though hardly an orator, he is one of the 
most successful partisans who ever entered on the 
warfare of debate. 

His graceful person, his serious air, his bald head, 
joined to hisdehberate, distin<Sl utterance, give him, 



[ 310 ] 

at once, a senatorial dignity, independent of his va- 
rious intellectual forces. 

I have seen Mr. Windham out of place only ; I 
have seen him only in pursuit of Mr. Addington. 
How lie would appear on the treasury bench, I can 
only imagine. But in his present seat, he discovers 
nothing but his talons ; and with all the unfeeling 
instin6l of the bird of prey, lie fixes on the neck of 
the minister, who, unlike Pitt, all over Achilles, is 
all over vulnerable, and daily bleeds afresh. 

Nothing great, nothing manly, nothing conciliato- 
ry mark the course of Windham ; whether he rises 
in meditated, or instantaneous, assault, he discovers 
at once the objeCl of his destru6lion. No disguise, 
the man cannot hide his features, it is forever the 
same inveterate spirit. Idem habitus oris, eadem 
contumacia in i^ultu, idem in oratione spiritus est* 
Passing by the plausible Hawkesbury, the labori- 
ous York, and the elegant Casilereagh, auxiliaries 
of the minister, he never suffers one of his arrows to 
glance the heart of Addington. He is terrible to his 
enemy as those enormous serpents, who carry with 
them three fold terror ; whose fangs are not less fa- 
tal than the squeeze of their bodies, nor these less fa- 
tal, than the lash of their tails. His instant, down- 
right attack precludes all escape, while his close logic, 
lengthened out in the winding subtlety of metaphys- 

• Livv. 



[ 311 ] 

ical reasoning, leaves his enemy bound hand and 
foot. Yet, not satisfied with this, and himself not 
half exhausted, he colle6\s all his sarcastic powers, 
and commences a new onset, the most ferocious of 
the Muses waiting his pleasure and opening all 
their stores of ridicule, jest and satire. 

No wonder tlie chancellor is chafed, no wonder 
he frets in his sear ; his miiristcrial dlgiiity suffers 
under the daily ridicule, while his self love is touch- 
ed home, under the ever new contempt of Wind- 
ham : for no man ever possessed a more insidious, 
vilifying talent at reproach, which can neither be 
warded off, nor retorted. It is not a single taunt, 
and then a respite ; it is not a passing sneer which 
is presently forgotten, but the ceaseless corrosion of 
the fabled vulture. 

Yet, Windham, though he possesses a fine imagi- 
nation, a strong current of argument, and a various 
and extensive reach of mind, adorned with the best 
portions of classic literature ; add to these a fluency 
second only to Pitt's, yet the ultimate requisite to 
a great orator is wanting, I mean passion, of which 
Windham is wholly destitute. Not that he is defi- 
cient in violence ; but he discovers, at once, a cold 
heart, and a passionate head, so that you follow him 
indifferently, and must first hate the man whom he 
attacks, before you can feel with Windham. 



[ 312 ] 

However, Windham generally brings to the de- 
. bate, something new, something dazzling, some- 
thing original : and when he does not add any thing 
of his own, he displays the question in its best 
possible position. Always perspicuous and ele- 
gant, his words seem to flow from the press already 
arranged, and exhibiting the fairest impression. In 
short, 'lA^'indihaiii is onc of the most interesting 
speakers in the House, and if he could suppress the 
black bile which continually flows from his mouth ; 
if he could conceal his bitter inveteracy, he would 
add new weight to his chara^ler, would lose nothing 
of his senatorial dignity, and would be the delight 
of the House of Commons. 

Adieu. 



THE EKB. 






